Cantatis
by xRedxxSkyx
Summary: Coming from someone who is devoted to all things fable and myth and has a soft spot for romance, I present to you stories based on my own world and characters that unwittingly follow the footsteps of fairy tales we all know and love. But beware! They just might not be in ways you expect... (Rated T just to be safe for soft swearing and suggestive themes-WARNING: might get risque)
1. Chapter 1

The Tale of Brichard and Molly

*"Red Riding Hood"*

A large rumble echoed throughout the woods.

"I know, _I know_," I grumbled in return, rubbing my aching belly.

_It can't be helped. As a Shape-shifter, my metabolism burns faster than the average human. Still…_Another protest of hunger, _it's annoying! _I trudged on. _Come on, Brichard, think happy thoughts! _Yeah, yeah…happy thoughts. Like, oh, the trees look nice in Harvest Season! Oh, oh, how nice the wild flowers smell. Or how nice it would be to sink my teeth in a juicy, succulent, plump rabbit…

I shook my head fiercely. _Brichard, stop it. Keep thinking this way and you'll Change and go into a rampage. Gotta keep yourself together. _I reached down and grabbed my flask. Taking a deep swig, I pushed back a low hanging branch. Normally, Changing in the forest wouldn't be so bad. No witnesses. Peace and quiet. I could frolic to my heart's content and nobody would be the wiser. But, I had a job to complete. I couldn't scare the target or otherwise I wouldn't get paid. If I didn't get paid, Mother wouldn't be able to receive her medicine.

_Mother…_My thoughts drifted to before…Before I left…

_"Brichard," her kind eyes surveyed me from her bed across the room. "Don't look so troubled. Everything will be alright."_

_Shooting up, I shouted, "How can everything be alright?! He knows you need that medicine, Mother, yet he raised the prices…again! He's a horrible man…"_

_"Calm, son. You know what happens when you get too worked up."_

_"I know," I growled from the depths of my throat. _

_Most people would have paled or would have been afraid to hear someone make that sound. It was unnatural coming from a human. And that's what I had always been. Unnatural. Perhaps that's why my father left my mother when I was born. He couldn't stand the thought of having a monster as a son. But not Mother…Mother never flinched or reacted with revulsion. She'd always smile kindly at me and remind me about my temper. My fists clenched. I couldn't afford to lose her. She led a distant life from the village for my sake because people harassed her about it. They thought that with the slightest provocation, I could snap and Change into my other furry self. Yet she fought for me to be treated equal and worked her fingers to the bone to provide for us. And in the end, it got her sick._

I won't let her suffering be all in vain…

_"I'll go to the village and find a job, Mother."_

_Her face fell. "Brichard…If I'm not there, they will…"_

_I stood firm. My heart raced. I was scared. But I smiled. "Mother, you worry too much. I'll be fine. I'm a Shape-shifter! That means I'm super strong. I've got so much of it, I've got some to spare. I'll handle everything."_

_She knew I was frightened. "But you remember what the village elders said. They will punish you before everyone and tie you up like an animal if they find you alone. It's too risky going there."_

_I remembered every word and sneer. They hated me. Called me a freak. _Let them call me a freak. They won't be able to stop me.

So, I went to the village. People shut their doors as I passed their homes, scooped up their children, gasped in terrified silence. Still, I boldly asked for work. Even if I begged, it was all the same. They wanted nothing to do with me. Except for one man by the name of Gill. He was the only one to welcome me into his home civilized and face me as a fellow human being. Before I knew it, I was in this place. Going deeper and deeper in the dense forest to find his eccentric and flighty daughter, Molly. Gill explained that she had told him the evening before that she was going to take a walk to her favorite bank where she usually daydreamed and would come right back home within a couple hours. But as the sun set, Molly didn't come home. Right away, he said, he sensed something was very wrong. She wasn't the type of girl to keep secrets or lie or be late. She was an obedient, good although strange girl. When he pleaded with the village elders to help him—to no surprise—they shot him down. They said that knowing the girl, she probably fell asleep in the woods and would return in no time. And he waited but she didn't come. Due to a wagon accident several years prior, he was unable to walk very far. The action itself caused excruciating pain, so naturally he couldn't go out to find her himself.

Giving me a handkerchief that she had crudely sewn to track her through her scent, he said he would pay a hefty amount of coins for her retrieval. So excited by this fortunate turn in my luck, I sped off without thinking of proper provisions and…

Another stomach growl.

"Arrgh, damn it, it hurts. I'm sure I'll find something," I muttered.

Breathing deeply into the handkerchief, once again I experienced that smell. Wet earth and trees and sweet berries and something else…Unique. Stopping, I lift my nose into the air. Taking a great whiff, I grinned. I was getting closer. Looking around, I thought, _This sure goes off the beaten path. Why did this girl go in this direction? Doesn't she know that wolves run in packs around here?_

Walking on, my pace sped as the smell's potency grew. _King's Coppers, here I come! _Crashing through some thick brush, I tripped. As I landed on my knees, hands on the ground, I cried out.

"Dammit, that hurt!"

Irritated, I growled deeply with true force. "Stupid…ground…"

_Stupid big feet…_

As I raised my head, a pair of shiny brown eyes stared back at me disturbingly close to my face. Leaping back, I yelled, "Ahh!"

"Hi'ya," the invader of space greeted with a cheery wave.

"Uhh, yeah, hi."

I scrambled. Settling on my bum, I gazed at her. Hair a honey brown, streaks of dark and light tones ran through the bangs chopped above her eyebrows and the wispy, wavy rest that didn't reach beyond shoulder length. Her large eyes were unusually bright and had a smile containing a few crooked teeth. Skin as pale as milk, she was less than a quarter of my height, wearing a bright red cloak and a new-leaf green dress with flouncy white sleeves and a big white bow at the back. A breeze caught her scent and shoved it right up my nostrils. It made my head go all fuzzy and odd. _This is…this is Molly?! There is no way this girl is who I am looking for! I was expecting a crying six year old, not a girl _my_ age! _On her hands and knees, she came closer, head tilted.

"Who are _you_?" She asked in a false voice, like she was reciting a line of an old man from a child's tale. Her smiled widened, eyes looking straight at me.

_So…so direct…_No one had ever looked at me like that. So bright and friendly. Flustered, I stammered, "Brichard."

Sitting, she playfully pondered with pursed lips and a tapping finger upon them, eyes squinting up at the treetops.

"Brichard. I've heard that name at the village. They all make it sound so big and mean. But you're not big or mean at all."

She giggled, doing that looking-at-me thing again. My heart skipped a beat. _Why does my skin feel so itchy and hot all the sudden? _

"How old are you, Mister Brichard?" Molly leaned forward.

Leaning back, I gulped. "I'm on my eighteenth year."

"Really?" Her eyes gleamed. "I'm on my seventeenth." Another inch closer. An inch too close.

Jumping up, I spoke louder and faster than was necessary. "Molly, your father sent me here to get you. He's really worried and it's probably best we get moving right away or else we'll be caught here at nightfall, which wouldn't good because there are wolves in this forest."

Molly puckered her lips to one side, gazing up at me as if she hadn't listened to a word I had said.

"Molly, did you hear me?"

Hopping up, she turned around. Bending down, she took something into her arms and started to whistle on her merry way away from me.

"What are you doing _now_?" Irritated, I followed.

"Taking this basket to Granny's. It's full of nummy goodies. She's sick and needs some company until Uncle Hunter gets back from his trip."

_Is she lying to me or just plain crazy, living out some dumb daydream of hers?_

"Your father didn't tell me anything about your grandmother being sick or you going to see her. Molly, please, cut it out. We have to get back."

"Wilma, my Granny's best friend told me to give this basket to her when I saw her yesterday and that's exactly what I'm gunna do."

Gritting my teeth, I said, "Then let's go back and tell your father and _then_ go to Granny's to give her the basket."

_So I can get my money, buy my mother's medicine, and go home!_

"No-can-do, Jolly Man, my Granny's sweet as pie. She can't be alone in that cabin by herself. Not with wolves running around out here. One of them might gobble her up."

I slapped my hand on my face. Sliding it off, I forced myself to breathe. _It's okay. It's alright. Be cool. Stay calm. You're fine. She's just infuriatingly crazy, that's all. Maybe if you play along with it, she'll come back with you. Yeahhh, that's it…_

"Fine. I'll go with you to your Granny's house."

She whirled about. Grabbing the front of my shirt, she declared with passionate excitement, "You will?! Oh, I knew you would. We mustn't dawdle another second then."

Clasping my hand, she marched forward, swinging the gift basket at her side. _Why is she…like this? _She clenched onto my limp hand and smiled on even though I was completely stiff and awkward. For some reason, touching her like that made everything worse. My heart beat harder in my chest and my stomach hurt and my palms went all sweaty. _I know what this must be, _I realized. _The pain of starvation. _

After several hours of me agonizing over my empty belly and listening to Molly prattle about nothing and everything, I had an interesting thought.

"Molly, do you know where you are going?"

"Of course. 'Through the forest, up the hill, stop at the turn, don't take a spill. Walk along the cloves, and there she goes, right at the doorstep of Granny's home.' Granny taught me that when I was little, just in case I ever needed to go to her and Uncle Hunter's cabin."

"I admit," I mused out loud, "it's kind of catchy."

"My Granny is going to love meeting you. She's going to be so happy."

When she looked back at me, I didn't respond. I was thinking of Mother. _I told Leighla to check on her in case I didn't get back by tonight. Mother's tough and she won't die or anything but she'll be in pain…_She suddenly let go of my hand. I looked about, wondering what made her stop walking. Molly stood on her tiptoes, eyes in slits staring into mine.

"What?" Uncomfortable, I stretched my neck to the side. "Why you looking at me like that?"

"You're not happy." She accused.

"Huh? Ya-yeah I am. See?"

I pointed to my upturned mouth. She shook her head. "No, I don't believe you. Your inside face isn't smiling."

"My whuh…?"

Hand on her hip, Molly said factually, "We all have two faces. One we wear on the inside which shows our true feelings and one we wear on the outside which only shows what we want to show. Sometimes it's true and sometimes it's fake. This one," she pinched my cheek, "isn't real."

"Ow, ow, ow, lemme go!"

"Not until your inside face is smiling!"

She began to poke my tummy. I squirmed violently, laughing. "Da-don't da-do that. That tickles."

She stopped. Smiling, she tapped my nose. "There. You're inside face is smiling."  
Spinning on the balls of her feet, she swayed back and forth in a song I didn't know. Probably one she made up_._ I stared at her. _She's so weird... _I laughed again, this time a real one. I did feel better. My muscles locked as the bones in my ears twitched. _That smell…_

"Molly." I called urgently.

Lost in her world, she continued to sing on the top of her lungs. Lunging forward, I wrapped my arm around her stomach, the other hand over her mouth. In her ear, I whispered, "You must listen very carefully, Molly. We are being watched by some very angry wolves. I'm going to distract them and when I tell you to run, you run home, got it?"

Slowly, she nodded. Eight of them stepped out of the trees. I stepped in front of her, arms spread. A guttural warning exited my mouth. _Back off. _The pack's dominant stepped forward, hackles slightly bristled, tail up and curled. He snarled, _Wimpy half-breed, I always get what I want. And what I want is to tear her to shreds before your eyes. No half-breed encroaches upon our territory and gets away with it._

I gritted my teeth. A pounding was starting in my head like a drum. Clutching my chest, my vision blurred. One sentence rang out with beastly ferocity from the darkness. _She's. Mine._

"Brichard, what's wrong?"

_Gnawing off that ugly face of hers will be an absolute pleasure. _

"NO," I roared. My blood boiled as an explosion of pain danced behind my eyes. My skull felt like it was going to crack open. I screamed, dropping to one knee. _No, not like this…I can't Change when I'm like this! _I looked over at Molly's pale face, now watching me, her big eyes no longer shining and carefree. They were filled with fear.

"Run, Molly." I panted.

Clutching her basket, she shook her head.

"Molly, _run_."

The word 'run' was interrupted by an animalistic howl enshrouded with agony. The ricocheting pain in my head grew until great bursts of lights were all I saw. My spine arched as the bones in my face cracked and snapped, growing and locking into shape. Next my arms, next my legs. My pants dropped to the ground and I tore my shirt off as fur rapidly shot of my pores. A tail grew between my legs. The cartilage in my ears reformed them into two inhuman ones. I collapsed onto four feet. The light dimmed and my eyes locked on the dominant.

I bared my teeth, the hair on my body charged and on edge. My heart beat erratically, fueled by primal rage.

_You won't touch her. She's mine._

The other seven paced, boxing me and Molly in. The dominant laughed, lips pulled high.

_You idiot half-breed._

In my peripheral, one of his followers launched at my right hind leg. Molly who had been close behind screamed as she fell backwards, landing on the floor. The cry jolted my body into incredible speed. _NO ONE HURTS HER. _I snapped my jaws around the wolf's throat. Another sprinted at me to my left. I slashed at his side. He immediately reared up and bit down on my ear. The other locked his teeth into my leg. The third charged at me, joining the fight. I whipped my head back. Viciously cutting the wolf that had had my leg, I lifted up to greet the charging wolf. We wrestled. Saliva matted my fur as his teeth desperately maneuvered towards my neck. Getting him on his back, I bit down on his throat until he began to whimper. He slinked away as another swiped a paw at my nose. The skin underneath my right eye and the bridge of my nose broke, quickly oozing blood. In brutal retaliation, my nails caught his eyelid and cheek.

Two jumped on me at once. _There are too many. I'm going to lose._ As human reasoning surfaced, I heard a whacking sound and the two wolves yelping away from me. Molly stood beside me, her eyes flashing with the basket gripped in her small hands like a club.

"I won't let you hurt Brichard!" She yelled defiantly.

_What does she think she's doing?!_

One of the wolves took advantage of my distracted attention and pushed me to the ground. There were clinks of glass and the odor of jams as Molly pounded on his skull with surprising strength until the wolf fell, crying in pain.

_You bitch! _Snarled the dominant but he didn't move. I rolled back onto my feet. Glaring at the others, they submitted before me, whining, tails down, lowering their hindquarters.

_What? All bark and no bite? _

The dominant surveyed the damage around him, calculating whether taking me on was worth it. He began to step back. I grinned.

_Going to run, scaredy-cat? _

_This isn't over, freak, _he barked.

They all fled through the trees.

_Hah! That's right! You better flee from the Mighty Bricha—! ...Whoa. _The world tilted. Shaking my head, I blinked but the falling sensation wouldn't leave.

"Brichard?!"

My eyes rolled up in my head and my body dropped.

…A cold whoosh of air sent tingles up my spine. Shivering, I curled, gripping the material covering me. _My bed feels kind of rocky…_Something warm blew on my face within an alarming distance. _That aroma! _My eyes opened wide. _Stars above. _I froze. Molly was asleep on her side, hands tucked underneath her cheek. She was so close her nose nearly touched mine. _She smiles even in her sleep. _My heart thumped from feeling her so near. Her warmth, her scent, her smile. They were driving me bonkers. _I wonder what it would be like to hold her and have her smile like that at me…_

Blood rushed to my cheeks. _What the…? What am I saying? Her crazy must have rubbed off on me. _

I also realized another issue as I sat up. I was naked. Or to be exact, naked with Molly's cloak draped over me. _Stars above, I hope this thing was on me _before_ I Changed back. Please, please, please be the case…_

I halted, staring down at her. _She put this on me. _I reached up, touching below my eye. _She cleaned up the scratch, too. Why? And hitting those wolves that attacked us…Why did she do that after watching me Change right in front of her? _Wrapping the cloak around my waist, I slowly stood up and looked around. Swiftly shimmying into my pants after I found them, I couldn't help but watch Molly again. _Damn. _Flustered, I scratched my head. _There has to be something wrong with her. It doesn't make sense. I mean, _normal_ people ran screaming when they saw it last time. But she helped me._

I growled, annoyed. _Man, I hate not understanding stuff. _Looking up, I sighed. Judging from the position of the moon, it was midnight. _I can't afford to waste any more time. I've got to keep moving. _I laid the red cloak across Molly. I then slid the basket handle halfway up one elbow and hoisted her into my arms. She was light and fit perfectly. _Stop thinking about her, Brichard. You've got Mother waiting at home, remember? _Puffing my chest, I responded to my conscious, _Right. _

I hadn't realized it before, but we were on an incline. _This must be the hill from that song. _I walked for a few hours in silence. It was strange though. I didn't like having no noise. Molly snuggled into my chest as she raised her right hand and placed it underneath her cheek and smiled. I swallowed thickly, blushing.

_Focus, Brichard! _I snapped my head up. I was at the top. Eyebrow raised, I said aloud, "Huh. What turn is she talking about? Oh, wow."

Looking down, I could see miles from where we stood. It was really remarkable. Without thinking, I took a couple steps forward, mesmerized.

"Whoa!"

I scuttled back as my right foot almost slipped. "Oh, damn, that wouldn't have been good," I muttered, heart pumping loudly for a few moments.

Gazing over the edge, I said while my voice wobbled, "Now that's an impressive cliff. Lesson learned, Granny. Always stop at the turn."

The rocks at my feet plunged hundreds of feet down, bouncing on the rugged outlay of the hill. Imagining my face as the rock, I winced. "Lesson learned," I murmured again.

Lifting my nose, I detected the next line in the song. Cloves. I walked alongside them for quite a while. It wasn't until sunup that I saw beyond a line of trees a homey cabin with rising smoke coming out of its chimney. I breathed deeply. Drool slid down the corner of my mouth. _Food. _Careful with my slumbering cargo, I stood before the door. _Well, isn't this awkward…I can't knock or anything. _Unsure of how the woman would react with a shirtless stranger holding her grandchild at her doorstep, I called out,

"Uh, hello? Uhm, excuse me but I, uh, am here with your granddaughter, Molly…"

The door sprang open. A very short woman with a red ruffled bonnet containing gray hair and a long protruding nose smiled up at me.

"Oh, bless me. The child must have been so tuckered out from the journey she fell asleep! Come in, come in, don't be shy!"

She grabbed my left arm and propelled me into the room. She bustled over to a simmering pot and began to ladle in its contents onto two bowls.

"I know that the walk up here can be a bit difficult so I prepared my special deer stew. Wilma told me last week that if she couldn't come she would send Molly here with some of her world famous jams to cheer me up. Isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever heard? I wasn't expecting a handsome young man such as yourself accompanying her but, more the merrier, as I always say."

_She didn't even ask me why I don't have a shirt on and am wearing no shoes. Or the fact I'm holding Molly._

"Molly said something about you being sick…"

"Oh, goodness, I've been better for quite some time now."

She smiled big as she placed the bowls onto the table. _What the…? So this whole trip was for nothing?! _Granny looked over at Molly.

"Dear, look what I made. It's your favorite."

The being in my arms swung out of them so quickly, I stumbled forward. The red cloak slid onto the floor after her. _She was awake?! _She hopped right into one of the chair and began to devour the bowl with gusto. Nailed where I stood, I stared at her. _She doesn't even act like she's been asleep. _Granny patted the chair next to her granddaughter invitingly.

"Here, give me that and sit down and enjoy. It's a family recipe, you know, dating back before my grandmother was born."

I stiffly gave the basket to Granny. Wary, I glanced at both of them and sat down._ Her grandmother's crazy just like her_, I decided. But, that wasn't going to stop me from demolishing the stew in front me. In the end, I had three servings and a hunk of freshly baked bread. Tasted like the most delicious meal I had ever eaten. I was about to stand up and thank the kind old lady for the food and grab the girl when Molly began to pop wild berries into her mouth while telling her grandmother random hearsay from the village. _You've got to be kidding me. _Tapping my fingers on the table, I eyed the scenery out the window. _Mother's home alone. I bet she's worried…That's it. I can't take this any longer._

"I'm sorry for interrupting but me and Molly have to leave. Her father is worried about her and wants her home right away and that hike's not a short one, _so_…"

I scooted back, shot up and reached for Molly.

"Gracious, yes, you must go back. But, not until I pick some more fresh berries to take back with you. They are growing like mad around here and are simply delightful. You two wait here. I'll be right back."

"Whuh…What?"

"Okay, Granny," Molly beamed as her grandmother grabbed Wilma's now emptied basket and left the cabin.

"I can't believe this," I muttered crossly as I sat back down. "At this rate, I'll never get back."

Molly stood up from her chair and then turning around, plopped on the table, legs kicking back and forth. Face low, she made a funny face at me.

"What?" I grumbled.

"_Someone_ doesn't like having fun."

"I like having fun, I'm just frustrated, that's all."

Molly tipped her head back while chanting, "Grumpypants, grumpypants, grumpypants."

"I'm not grumpy," my voice rose.

She grinned at me, eyebrow lifted. I stopped. I couldn't help it. I smiled a little.

"Okay, so I'm a _little_ grumpy. You could hardly blame me."

She blinked. Turning her head, she giggled behind her head.

"What? Hey, what's so funny?"

"I just had a thought. If you had gray hair and wore my Granny's bonnet, you'd look so much like her."

The idea was so ridiculous, I laughed out loud. "If I did _what_?"

But she was already zooming across the room to find a bonnet to test out her theory. Running back, she placed it around my head and tied a knot beneath my chin.

"There."

Peering at her handiwork, she laughed, "Oh, Granny, how you've changed."

At this point, I decided I wasn't going to go anywhere until Granny got back so I might as well succumb to her insanity. She shifted her feet while making "hmm" noises with a broad grin.

"Granny, what big eyes you have."

I altered my voice into a cackling crone. "The better to see you with, my youngling."

Her eyes danced with excitement.

"Oh, what long ears you have."

"The better to hear you with, my child."

"What big hands you have, Grandmother."

"The better to hold you with, my dear."

Molly reached down and took my hand. My heart skipped a few beats. Heat consumed my body at the touch. Gently inspecting it, she looked up at me. I forgot that I was supposed to be acting and got lost in those strange, warm eyes of hers. Her smile faded. The breath in my lungs suspended as she slowly took the ends of the knot. Pulling at the strings, she slid the bonnet towards the back of my neck. Her elbows rested on my shoulders. She was so close I could hear her heartbeat. _It's going so fast._

"Well," she said softly, "no wonder. You're not my Granny at all. You're Brichard."

One of her fingers stroked one of my ears. I couldn't resist. Closing my eyes, I turned my head as she scratched it, grinning like an idiot. _Ohhh, that feels nice…Oh, no. _My stomach sank. Sometimes when I experienced intense swings of emotion, certain minor parts of my body Changed without noticing. Anxious, I watched her facial expressions. She simply smiled as she played with my furry ear and hair.

"You…You're not afraid?"

"Of what?" She tilted her head, confused.

"Of this," I pointed to my head. "I mean, doesn't this bother you?"

Molly grinned. "Which part? The grayish brown hair? The really pale brown eyes? The tallness? Or is it the big feet?"

My heart beat faster. But I pressed on. "The ears. The fact I'm half-man, half-wolf. A Shape-shifter."

She shook her head. Not even a hesitation. Pouting, she thoughtfully played with my hair. "Nope. Not at all. You're a nice person and a nice wolf so I'm not afraid of you. I've never understood why everyone else is though. All you did was Change because those kids were picking on you when you were little. They backed you into a corner and threw rocks at you. You were only defending yourself. You didn't bite anyone either. You just growled. But those nasty boys told their parents that you threatened to eat them and their families. That was an awful thing for them to say."

_She knew all along what I was? I thought all she knew was my name from the village. Yet, she didn't treat me any different. She gave me that smile when she met me. _I sat, thunderstruck. _I…I have never been smiled at before._

"What's wrong?" Molly implored, forehead touching mine.

"It's just…no one's nice to me and treats me like I'm human except for my mother and now you. Well, your father did, too. I guess, uh…I'm not really used to kindness…Not by anybody."

I shyly finished. Ashamed, I lowered my head. _She probably thinks I sound so stupid…_

"Well," she beamed, "you're not going to be alone anymore. I'm your friend now."

_Friend. _I looked deeply into her bright gaze. Trembling, I put my hands on her waist. She didn't tell me to take them off. She didn't look like she was repulsed by me. _I don't want this girl to leave me. I want her to stay and keep smiling._

Molly's head sharply turned. Mine did as well. And at that moment, I couldn't get my hands off Molly fast enough and into the air.

"Uncle Hunter, put the arrow down!" She stomped her foot.

True to his name, her uncle wore animal skins on every inch of his body, packing hefty knives and towered past the six foot five mark. Aiming a strung arrow at my head, the beast of a man's growl installed more fear in me than any creature I had ever encountered.

"Back away, Molly."

"Uncle, put it down!"

"Get away from him."

"He's my friend," she yelled back.

"He's an animal, that's what he is. Look at the ears! He may look like a man but he doesn't got the conscious of one. He would have killed ya' if I hadn't gotten here when I did. I saw the way that son-of-a-bitch was eyein' ya'. Like you were a three course meal. Sick bastard, I should just shoot you right now."

Hunter stretched the bow back, his fingers on the verge of letting go. My body stiffened. I didn't care about me. I cared about the defiant, weird girl who spread her arms in front of me and shouted at her uncle.

"Stop it, Uncle. He's not like that! He's nice to me."

He laughed bitterly. "Of course he is. You're breakfast."

Molly stomped her foot again, angry. "You're just like they are, Uncle Hunter! You don't even know him and you accuse of being some monster. It's not fair! He didn't do anything to you but you're being so mean to him. He saved me from eight wolves when they attacked us and carried me all the way here to Granny's. He took care of me. You apologize to him this instant!"

For a little thing, she sure could be intimidating. Glaring at her uncle, fists at the hips, she arched her brow. He put down the bow and arrow but the disgust remained in his eyes.

"I'm not apologizin' to that thing."

It didn't make me mad hearing him say that. A strange, direct calm that I had never experienced before was in me. Maybe it was because of Molly, maybe it was Uncle Hunter, maybe it was because of the whole situation but I found the words that I should have said to those village elders years ago.

"I've got a question for you."

Pointing to Molly, I said in a light tone, "If I am such a brainless, soulless killer, why didn't I eat her in the forest? Would have been easier, wouldn't it? With my supposed insatiable hunger for human flesh, wouldn't she have been no match to my strength and would have been eaten the moment we were alone together?"

Hunter coughed, hiding his embarrassment. "Uh, well…"

"I may have another form but within it beats the same heart. I am a man with morals and dreams. Just like you."

Hunter became speechless. He stared at us both. Molly looped her arm through mine. Startled, I blinked down at her. Smiling, she laid her head on my shoulder, "He's Brichard."

Ears twitching towards the wall, I straightened. _A scream?_

"What is it?" She asked, concerned.

_Granny. _Instinctively, I ran to the door. Molly grabbed her cloak and diligently followed behind. Whirling around, I lifted a commanding finger at her big eyes.

"No. You're staying here."

"I'm coming with you!"

"No, you're not!" I fumed.

Uncle Hunter folded his bear arms across his chest behind her.

"Get your finger outta' her face. You don't get to order her around."

Frustrated, I gushed, "This is not the time for this. I heard a scream in the forest that sounded like Granny's. I'm not having this crazy thing in harms way. She doesn't listen and could get killed!"

Her uncle suddenly changed his target. "He's right. You aren't coming."

"But!" Molly yelled.

"No, buts. Stay!" I pointed at her.

We sprinted out of the cabin. Without a word, he followed me. I sniffed the air. _Granny. She's close. _As I was about to take another step, I felt a cold metal at my throat. I stiffened.

"Do you really think I'd fall for that trick, wolf-boy? Take me all the way out here, claiming you heard something, when you really wanna kill me."

"What?!" I roared. "Are you insane?"

"Turn around."

_I'm done._

I snapped. I really snapped. Spinning around, I grabbed Hunter's hand and jabbed the knife to my throat.

"If you really want to do it so badly, then get it done with already."

The voice that had come out of my mouth was animalistic hostility. I smelled the blood that trickled from where the tip of the knife dug into. Hunter's face had gone ashen. I could hear his heart pump rapidly. _Pathetic._ I shoved the hand back. Stepping back, I allowed the Change to take over me. Molly's uncle watched with a mixture of dark fascination and fear. With a flick of my tail, I ran off towards Granny. To none of my surprise, the hulking man was able to keep up. As I tore into a clearing, I looked around. _She's here. I can smell her but where…?_

"Hunter? Hunter, dear, you're home already?"

Quizzical, I looked about. _Where is she? Her basket and the berries are over there…_Then I stopped. My head turned upward. The old woman had managed to climb up to the lowest tier of a tree. Wiggling her fingers as if there was nothing innately wrong with this fact, she called down, "And you brought Molly's friend with you as well. That's so nice of you."

_What the…? She knew what I was all along? What is up with these crazy women? _Sighing heavily, Hunter rubbed his eyes for a moment.

"Mother, what in the blazes are you doing up there?"  
"There was this terrible, huge bee right over there when I was picking some berries for Molly and her friend."

_That's it? That's why you screamed as if you were about to be murdered?_

Uncle Hunter walked over to the base of the tree. Hands across his chest, he yelled, "Can you climb down on your own or do you need help?"

"Oh, I think I can manage, thank you."

She smiled innocently as she nimbly came down from the branches. _I don't think even I can do that. _Taking his mother's hand, he escorted her to her basket. Ushering her across the expanse, he muttered annoyed, "Let's go home, Mother."

"But I didn't pick enough berries."

"I think they will survive."

"You are just like your father."

I padded next to them. Once we came across my pants, I held them in my teeth. Suddenly, I stood still. The others turned back and stared at me. I nudged my head at them to continue without me.

"Where do you think you are going?" Growled Hunter.

Spitting out the pants onto the ground before my paws, I touched my nose to it. Granny beamed.

"Oh, let us give him some privacy. He wants to Change before he sees Molly. What a lovely boy…What an appetite. He ate three helpings of my stew!"

"Oh, Mother," Hunter rolled his eyes. "Let's go."

When they went out eyesight, I Changed back and got into my clothes. By the time I got back, Granny was enthusiastically telling Molly about the bee incident outside the cabin. Molly's head swiveled my way. With a grin splattered across her cheeks, she sprinted at me. _Oh no._ The little red thing jumped up and wound its arms around my neck. Quickly grabbing her, I stumbled backwards.

"Molly?"

Giggling, she said, "You're back!"  
"Of course I am," I replied unsteadily.

Landing on her feet, Molly clasped her hands together. "Can we go home together now?"

Sighing, I grinned. _This girl…_ "Yes, Molly. We can go home."

"Yay!" She clapped.

Spinning around, she pecked a kiss on her Granny's cheek and took the basket.

"Thanks Granny for everything."

"You know you're always welcome here, dear. You too, young man! Don't be a stranger!"

I smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

Hunter grunted as he shifted on his feet. "Hey, you."

I looked at him.

"You take care of her, ya' hear?"

Smirking, I nodded. "Yes, sir."

Hunter twitched, pointing a threatening finger at me. "If anything happens to her, I'll go down there and skin you alive."

"I understand."

"Come on, Brichard, Father's waiting for us!"

Suddenly impatient, Molly grabbed my hand and tugged me onwards. This time, I held it back.

Two bewildering, headache-inducing, frustrating, wonderful years went by after that day. Needless to say, I got the money from Gill and was able to get my mother's medicine. It didn't take much longer after that to get right back on her feet, healthy as come be. And because of Molly's uncle who convinced the village I wasn't a lunatic with ears and a tail with no human conscious, I was able to get a job as a carpenter. Molly didn't let a day go by without coming to visit me or demanding I see her. I, of course, couldn't say no to her and obeyed. Well, that is, until about a week ago and a half ago…

I lied to her saying that I was requested to do a project out of the area and wouldn't be able to see her for a week. She took the news like anything else. Her confusing, absolutely logical-less way. She turned to me, looked straight in my eyes and told me not to see her for two days after I came back home. When I asked her why, she said that I should rest and spend time with my mother after having been gone for such a long period of time. I was unable to fight back such a selfless answer and conceded to it.

And now, here I was. Standing before Gill and Molly's home, tucked in the corner of the village where wild flowers ravaged the yard. Every breath I took felt like it wasn't enough. No much how much I swallowed or cleared my throat, it remained constricted. My heart was beating so hard, I was surprised it hadn't burst yet. Wiping the sweat from my palms onto my legs, I inhaled and took a shaking step to the door. Before I even reached it, out bounded my Molly in a red dress with a brown apron, hands coated in flour, hair swaying in the wind, smiling that beautiful, bewitching smile.

Shoving a fistful of flowers at her, I stammered, "Here."

"Brichard, they're so pretty."

She took the bundle close. Dipping her nose deep into them, she beamed.

"Thank you!"

Going on her tiptoes, she kissed my cheek.

"So, how did the project go?"

"It, uh, went, uhm…well."

Putting her hands behind her back, she tilted her head up at me.

"Is there something you want to say to me?"

Heart galloping behind my ribs, I gulped. _How does she always do that?!_

"I, uh, yeah…I do…"

Sweating profusely, I reached into my pocket. _No, no, you don't do it like that! _With a clumsy drop to one knee, I shook as I grabbed the slick thing in my fingertips. I took it out and thrust it upward before I could run.

"Molly, will you become my wife?"

_I'm such an idiot. I had a whole speech planned…It wasn't supposed to go like this at all!_

She stared at me. Then, she laughed. It wasn't one bursting with joy. It was a laugh directed at me. My stomach plunged but like the idiot I was, my hand didn't lower.

"Brichard, you can be so funny sometimes."

Even though she gazed at me with pity, I just couldn't give up. Shooting up, I took her hand. Vehemently, I said, "I know I'm not rich and I'm not really normal but I love you with all my heart, Molly. If you stay with me, I can't guarantee there won't be hard times but I'll promise to take care of you and be with you until the rest of your days. So, please, say yes."

Molly gently took the ring from my hand. Sliding it on her finger, she wordlessly reached up and kissed me. She had never kissed me on the lips before. Fingers stroking the hair at the nape of my neck, she smiled wide at my dreamy expression.

"You're so silly, Brichard. It's taken you two years to ask me when we're already engaged."

"_What_?"

"Didn't I give you my handkerchief after you took me home from Granny's that day we met?"

"Yeah, but…"

_I don't see how that has anything to do with this discussion!_

"When a woman gives her handkerchief, it's a symbol of her everlasting promise to the man who receives it."

"_Huh_?"

_So, are you telling me that I worried till I had gray hairs for nothing?! I saved for _two_ years and searched through _three_ towns until I found the perfect ring for you, woman! _

As if she had read my mind, she giggled. Kissing me again, she declared, "I love you, Brichard."

Sighing, I chuckled, "I love you too, you crazy woman."

Molly threaded her fingers through mine. Pulling me to the door, she said with a broad grin, "I can't wait to tell Granny and Uncle Hunter."

"What about your father?"

"He already knows."

"How?"

She wagged a finger at me. "I told him so. I knew you were lying to me about your project and were actually getting me a ring."

"How…? Damn, I was so careful, too…"

She laughed and laid her head on the side of my arm. I couldn't help it. I sighed and smiled. What could I say? That was my Molly for you.

THE END


	2. Chapter 2

The Tale of Tiffany and Conor

*"Cinderella"*

How could I forget the first time I met her? Even though it feels like ages, it was only four years ago. I, sixteen, and she, fifteen, and a confrontation that will forever be burned in my mind.

_The glare from the golden chandeliers blurred my vision. Reaching up, I took off my spectacles and rubbed them on my shirt. _On the side-lines, once again. _It wasn't anything new. While my handsome, successful, idiot older brother Ken drew in all the women in the room simply with the wave of his hand, I, his pitiful younger sibling, sat in the shadows of his blinding aura. _

_"It's sickening how they flock to him." I nastily muttered._

_"Ladies, ladies, please, there is plenty to go around."_

_I rolled my eyes. _Here it goes again. That smile and that charm. _My fists clenched. I never would admit it aloud but I hated him. While he was born with the looks, the body, the prestige of our family name, I was born with a perpetual stutter, lanky limbs, and poor eyesight. Never to be able to match my brother's perfection. My parents never stopped comparing us both, saying how I should socialize more like Ken. I should smile more. Like Ken. I should talk more. Like Ken. I should stand straight and not hide in the corners. Like Ken. And what made it all the worse was the fact that my brother treated me with that same sickening charisma as he did everyone else. So unfazed and self-assured. _

_My back leaned against the wall. _Why did he have to bring me here in the first place? He knows how much I hate this stuff. _Crossing my arms, my gaze swept over the crowd. _Stars above, I'm bored out of my mind. _Leaving my brother to his entertainment, I wandered down a hall that was deserted. As I strolled along, lost in staring out the windows at the stars, I heard a girl sobbing faintly._

_"Come on, piggy, have some more cake! I know you like it."_

_"I-I don't wan' anymore," I heard the girl cry._

_Curious, I went towards the sound. A boy several years older than me held a plate full of cake, looming over a young girl with a twisted grin in a corner. Icing and crumbs were smeared around her mouth. She trembled, tears streaked down her cheeks. My fists shook in hot rage._

_"Ha-ha-hey."_

_He turned. The girl blinked, staring at me. Their eyes on me, waiting…_I can't speak. _Sweat broke out on my skin. Heat consumed my face. _Why?! Why does this happen to me every time? _The boy snorted._

_"Hey, Four-Eyes. You're Ken's younger brother, Conor, right?"_

_All I could do was shake and stare at the marble beneath my feet. My tongue refused to untwist. The plate containing the cake whizzed by my head. I was too afraid to move. With a sinister chuckle, he stepped towards me._

_"I asked you a question, Four-Eyes."_

I can't…I have to say something! That girl needs me! _My eyes fleeted upwards. Round face, dimpled cheeks, creamy skin, thick yellow hair, and shining green eyes. I had never seen a girl more beautiful. My chest seized up and the heat enflamed in my cheeks. _Bu-but, I can't move…

_"Aren't you listening to me? I _asked_ you a question."_

_He shoved me hard. I flew backwards. The spectacles jumped off my nose from the fall and slid across the floor. Everything became fuzzy blurs. My head spun. Finally, my gaze locked on his figure. He strolled to where my spectacles lay._

"_Oh, are these yours?"_

"_Na-na-no, I na-na-need them," I panicked, trying to reach them. He grinned as he stepped on them. I yelled out, lunging for the pieces. _

"_No," I whispered. _Mother and Father had them specially made. They traveled abroad to find me an eye-specialist…

_Laughing, the boy said, "I heard you weren't too much like your brother, but come _on_, this is ridiculous. You are nothing like him. All you are is a sniveling, pathetic kid."_

"_You leave him alone, you big bully!"_

_The girl came at the boy's back and pounded on it with gloved fury. He whirled around and pushed her into the wall._

"_Get off me, you ugly pig. And stay out of this!"_

_I sat up quickly. _I can't let him hurt her like that! I have to say something!

"_La-leave ha-her ah-ah-alone!"_

_He spun around. His stomping, blurred form came at my sprawled body. Kicking me in the stomach, I cried out in agony, rolling over while cradling it.  
"Not such a tough guy now, are ya'?"_

_He kicked me again. And again. Tears ran down my face from the pain as I curled up into a ball, hands protecting the back of my head. I couldn't even gasp out a plea for him to stop. All I could do was whimper as his foot slammed into my sides and back. Breathing heavily, he stepped back._

"_You're so pathetic."_

_Chuckling to himself, he walked away. I tried sitting up. I cried out as pain erupted everywhere on my body. _

"_Don't try to get up! Lay back down."_

I was supposed to protect her. _The shame ravaged me worse than the pain. I cringed into myself. _I have no right to look at her._ Through the silent tears, I murmured, "I-I'm sa-sa-sorry. I was sa-sa-sup-pa-posed to pro-protect you. I'm sorry."_

_Silky fingers grasped mine. Shocked, I opened my eyes. The blurry orbs of two green gems of dazzling brilliance stared back with a crooked smile._

"_Don't say that, Conor. You have nothing to be sorry about. I'm the one that should apologize. You got hurt because of me…"_

_She looked so sad, I forced my lips to move. "Wha-what's ya-your name?"_

_She smiled. "Tiffany."_

Everything about her had me enraptured from that very moment on. I was young but even then, I understood that I would follow this girl anywhere. I would leap across valleys, climb mountains, trek deserts, if she asked. Because she saw me. My parents, however, didn't approve of my choice. They said that Tiffany was the daughter of the infamous Lady Delphine, a woman who had been Judged by King Fenlan and Queen Kendralina before their reign and found guilty of falsely accusing a poor tradesman of cheating her out of what she bought, claiming the gloves she received weren't what she ordered. Her accusation had nearly robbed the tradesman of his livelihood and cost him more than several weeks in imprisonment. Lady Delphine's defense of this crime? He was just a rat. Something that could be thrown away and no one would care. It hadn't mattered to her if he would have been whipped and sent to prison. As long as she had had her gloves, that was all that did.

His Majesty's punishment was a harsh one. Publicly whipped and imprisoned for the same period of time the tradesman had endured. Lady Delphine and her husband's images were forever marred by this incident. Although his business lay in trading overseas, all connections and social status in Lawence were strained. Interacting with any member of Lady Delphine's family in a friendly context was considered a serious transgression in society's eyes. And because of it, Tiffany was left friendless and made sport of. Other young nobles our age openly ridiculed her for her baby face and thicker size. My own mother made a comment, saying that she didn't want me hanging around her due to her 'disposition'. But I wouldn't be swayed by this ludicrous notion. I knew what she really meant. Tiffany wasn't skin and bone, wearing pounds of powder on her cheeks and dripping with jewels.

In my eyes, Tiffany was perfect and beautiful. I didn't care what anybody else thought. So, I made a pact with my parents that if they allowed me to see Tiffany, I would go to any social function, dance any dance, talk to any person they wanted me to. They eventually relented…

"Conor?"

I jumped. Spinning around, I looked down at Tiffany. Her face and body had thinned out in the last year or so. That glow in her eyes I had seen the first night we met wasn't there anymore. The court had driven it out of her. Her sweet innocence due to their heartless antics had been smashed to bits. It had become wretched self-loathing and in turn, obsession. She would stop at nothing to feel the satisfaction of being seen and praised now.

"I've said your name twice already. You're supposed to be paying attention!"

"Ya-yes, ma'am."

She rolled her eyes. "Now, you better watch me this time!"

She traipsed across the room. Like a true lady, she threw back her head, lifted her chin and glided across the carpet. Her smile blossomed as she stood a little ways before me. Even though that smile wasn't for me but for an imaginary lord in an imaginary ball, my heart skittered in an off beat tune. Curtseying low, she said sweetly, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, your lordship."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Tiffany shot up. Pounding down her foot, she yelled, "Conor, that was your line!"

"I-I'm sa-sorry…I forgot it…" I trailed off into silence, hands in the air.

"Errrr!" She growled between clenched teeth.

Stomping towards her bed, she whirled around and fell on top of the sheets.

"Everything has to be perfect tonight! Lord Preston Demarque is going to be there. He _has_ to notice me."

"Why da-does i-it have to be him?" I grumbled not without bitterness.

Her glare smacked me down where I stood. "He's a nobleman from Saliria. A distant relative of the Salirian king. He holds power, respect, and money. On top of that, he's single and incredibly handsome. Every unmarried woman in Lawence wants to be his wife."

She sat up, her eyes gleaming like daggers. "I have to be the woman he chooses, Conor. I'm already nineteen years old. I don't have much time left! I can't stay 'Lady Delphine's daughter' forever. I won't. If I take a dignified name such as Demarque, those bastards will have to notice and I won't have to live in this disgusting place any longer."

A prick pierced my chest. I clenched my jaw as I took off my spectacles and rubbed in on my shirt. _To spite the world, you'd marry a stranger. _But what I was really thinking was, _You'd marry him when a man that loves you no matter what shape you take is standing right in front of you. _With an exasperated sigh, Tiffany walked over. Taking the spectacles from me, she took a step back, holding them out of my reach. I blinked, frowning.

"Ta-Ta-Tiffany, ga-give them back."

"You rub your spectacles and get that scowl on your face when something is frustrating you. It annoys me."

She said this simply. Twirling it around in her hand, she sauntered over to her bed.

"If you want them, come and get them."

_Not this childish game again. _She always did this when she got bored. Took things of mine and would walk about, putting them out of my reach or hiding them. Usually, I played along. But not today. Brusquely going over to her, I held my open palm to her fuzzy form of yellow and red.

"Ta-Tiffany, now."

"What is this? Is Conor cranky?"

My mouth sloped down one side. I was dangerously close to yelling at her. She sighed heavily after a moment of stiff silence.

"Geez, fine…Ruin my fun."

She stood. Cool fingers pressed on my cheekbones. Startled, I stared in front of me.

"It's too bad you have to hide such pretty eyes behind these ugly things."

I swallowed as my heart rode up my throat. Tiffany placed my spectacles at their rightful perch. A fine tremble coursed through my veins as I adjusted them. That smile. I compulsively coughed, turning my head away to hide my blush. She laughed.

"You can never stay mad at me for long. I'm simply too cute."

Tiffany walked away. Lifting a finger, she said casually, "Remember, tonight, we do not know each other."

"O-of course," I murmured.

She whirled around, beaming. "Tonight, Lord Preston is going to fall in love with me."

Seven hours later, I was dressed head to toe in my finest, standing beside the Prince of Charm on the edge of the ballroom. I anxiously glanced at the staircase at the head of the room. _Where is she? _Ken looped an arm around my shoulders. Gripping a glass of wine, he grinned,

"Why the long face, little brother? You should be happy! We got invited to one of the most exclusive parties of the year and there are so many lovely women without partners around us. You're a good looking fellow and not so bad at the turns! Go ask one of them to dance!"

I gruffly shrugged off his arm. Pushing up my spectacles, I retorted, "I-I'm perfectly content here, tha-thank you very much. And I think tha-they would much rather prefer you asking."

Ken laughed warmly. "Ah, come on, Conor. You're a witty, sharp guy! Not to mention tall and capable of dancing the Birth of Fire."

My face flared in color. Gritting my teeth, I said underneath my breath, "Ya-you swore that you wo-would not to speak of that!"

"What? No one's listening. But really, Conor, you should have more confidence in yourself."

I didn't know how to respond. It was hard to keep a scowling face and a mean disposition to a brother like him. _Another reason why I hate him. _

"Lord Preston Demarque de Torenchsi."  
Everyone in the ballroom paused and stared at the stairs. My fists curled. I found myself praying that Lord Preston would be a man well into his years, balding, wearing a pervy grin that walked with pigeon-toed grace. Those prayers dried up as a straight-backed, confident figure began to descend the stairs with an elegantly crafted cane, thick black hair on his scalp, and a cool smile on his lips. Tall, he wore an exotic, exalted air and a scruffy beard that although unkept added to his mystique. He smiled into the crowd as if the whole room held his closest friends. _Damn it, damn it, damn it…He's exactly what she wants. How can I compete with that?!_

"Ahh, well, there is the star of tonight's show. The highly anticipated Lord Preston," Ken remarked while watching his usual admirers horde around the Salirian.

I glanced at my brother with some surprise. "Ya-you don't la-like him?"

Ken shrugged, sipping from his glass. "I met him once before. I didn't get a very good feeling from him, though. Like he's not real, you know? All show and no substance."

Although it went against everything in me to admit it, my brother was a fairly accurate reader of people. He tended to see the better side of even the most unsociable. I trusted his judgment. As I pondered this, out of the corner of my eyes I saw a glittering figure at the top of the stairs. I gaped.

"…Tiffany?"

I whispered in shock and awe. She was…exquisite. Her golden locks cascaded down one milky shoulder, pinned behind the left ear by a diamond encrusted hairpin. Full lips painted a modest shade of pink and long eyelashes dashed with black, her eyes sparkled. The peach dress hugged along the gentle curves of her chest and waist, flowing about her feet as she smiled that magnificent smile, cheeks dimpled. I forgot where I was in that moment. All I saw was Tiffany.

But then, I blinked, following her line of sight. Lord Preston Demarque de Torenchsi turned around as if feeling the intensity of those gleaming orbs and without missing so much as a beat, left his admirers and walked up the steps. I saw his lips moving with gentlemanly countenance. She elegantly bowed the bow she had practiced for over a week. He took her hand, kissing the fingers while gazing at her, grinning coolly. Whispers ran through the crowd in the sudden, stiff silence.

"Isn't that…Isn't that _Lady Delphine's daughter_?" One girl loudly announced with some disgust.

"Yeah, what is that pig girl doing here?" Another venomously echoed.

A young man muttered as he ogled her body from afar. "I thought she was gone overseas with her parents. What's she doing here?"

His date threw her head back, sniffing contemptuously. "I don't care why she's here. She needs to leave. She wasn't even invited. Where are the guards? Guards?!"

Lord Preston presented a saddened expression to the agitated woman across the stairs.

"Lady Presill, you have been such a gracious hostess. I beg your pardon. I'm afraid I have been quite the ill mannered guest. I invited this young lady here earlier this evening…I presumed upon your magnanimous nature and assured her it wouldn't be a problem. I see now that I what I did was an act of selfishness and mal decorum. Me and my guest will leave right away before we inflict any further grievances…"

Judging from the expression of surprise that had flitted across Tiffany's face, Preston's speech was a complete lie. Yet, she smiled sweetly and took his arm. Lady Presill stood agape, watching them traipse towards the doors.

"Wait!" She called.

He turned, eyebrows raised. It was the perfect blend of innocence and concern. But something sinister gleamed in his gaze.

"I see no reason if she was indeed invited by you to turn her out," she nervously laughed. "Please, both of you, do stay and enjoy the party."

Lord Preston bowed once again. "My lady, your generous heart never ceases to amaze me."

As Lady Presill blushed, he escorted Tiffany down the stairs while twirling his cane. It drew a laugh from the girl, followed by a sparkling smile. My fists clenched. _He's just playing with her! _And as much at it tore my stomach to shreds and made my body tremble with hatred to see her fold into his arms as they then began to dance, I couldn't do a damn thing. This was all going perfectly to Tiffany's plan. She was the envy of the ballroom. The women were practically tearing their hair out in seething anger watching her execute each step without flaw. I glanced over at my brother. Ken's face was unreadable as he took a sip.

"W-why aren't you dancing?"

His eyebrows rose marginally. Some of my discontent had bled through my words.

"Watching you, of course," he replied, grinning.

"M-me? W-why me? I-I'm f-fine." I growled as I watched Tiffany, _yet again_, shoot a smug smile over at a group of ladies that had long ago tortured her endlessly and were presently watching her progress, all of them partner-less, at the side of the room with upset faces.

"Your stammer always thickens when you're either embarrassed or really angry. You can deny it all you want, but you want it to be you out there, holding Tiffany in your arms. Admit it. You're envious of Lord Preston."

Heat ravaged my skin in seconds and I leaped upwards, away from Ken.

"A-a-are you insane?! I-I-I'm na-not envious of him, o-or any-anything! T-Tiffany can do wha-whatever she wants with who-whoever she wants! Why should I care?"

Even as I spouted the bitter words, my heart was breaking as I watched her continue to smile so blindingly at the handsome foreigner. A large hand settled on my shoulder.

"Conor, you just got to be patient. She'll see the kind of man he really is sooner or later. And when she does, she will need her knight in shining armor."

Perplexed, I stared up at my brother. _Knight in shining armor? What is he _talking_ about? _He laughed, repeatedly pounding my back.

"Ha-hey, that hurts."

Lady Presill gravitated towards the center of the room as the dance fell to a close. Lifting her hands, the room fell silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming. It's so wonderful to see all of you, my closest friends, here tonight. Especially, his lordship, Lord Preston Demarque, who traveled here all the way from Saliria for this event."

She made a show of this, going to the lord and clasping hands with him and bestowing titles like 'noble', 'kind', 'valiant', and 'a true gentleman'. Tiffany although blatantly ignored in the charade retained her glow, holding onto Preston with pride. I crossed my arms as everyone else cheered, raising their glasses and clapping. Finally, the lady turned around and announced, "In respect to Lord Preston, I present you all with a solo arcus performance of The Lament of Almuim. May you all enjoy!"

A very homely girl with unremarkable brown hair tied into a bun behind her head, a homespun dress, and a splatter-mark birthmark on her face quietly entered the stage with the Salirian instrument and a horsehair bow in her long fingers. Applause came from the crowd due to reflex rather than feeling and it showed. To some surprise, she didn't call forth a chair but simply stood. The girl placed the butt of the arcus beneath her chin and tilted the slim neck up as she set the bow on the strings. Closing her eyes, a beautifully sad sound expelled forth. But despite its sadness, the mysterious girl somehow wove budding light and undying hope into the tune. It could wrench the heart, draw a smile, and a few tears all in the same moment. I had never heard a thing like it.

My eyes slid over to Tiffany. She was captivated, her hand on her chest in awe. Her partner, however, didn't pretend the same awe. In fact, he didn't exude any emotion at all. Darkness had clouded his face as he intensely watched the performance.

I wasn't the only one that noticed. Tiffany with some concern tugged on his shirt. He didn't glance down at her. Instead, he coldly shoved his arm out of her grasp and walked a short distance from her, eyes still fixated on the performer. Tiffany's big eyes blinked with hurt and her hand melted down to her side lamely. Cold fury flooded my veins. _How…How could he do that?! Does he have an ounce of decency in him?! _

As the arcus player ended the song, an energetic approval followed. The people around her whistled and shouted compliments. Like a fawn in a forest caught grazing by a lakeside, she watched with wide eyes, nervously pressing loose strands of hair behind her ear. Lord Preston made a steady gait towards her. The crowd parted to accommodate him. As if no one was watching, he said flatly, "Your playing is commendable. If, of course, you like those sort of things."

"Sort of things, sir," she questioned slowly, her brow puzzled.

Gripping his cane before him, he growled, "The Lament of Almuim is meant to be played as stark reminder of the Massacre of Normild in my home kingdom of Saliria. You twisted the original composition into something that entertains."

"I had no intention of' twisting' for entertainment purposes, sir, I assure you." She unflinchingly said.

"It mocks the men that died at the hands of merciless barbarians while fighting for the lives of all that they held dear. Hundreds died yet you tweaked it into something…something almost sweet sounding! How is that not a form of disrespect to their memories? Or to Wildecox who spent years of his life in poverty, writing on any scrap he could find?"

The girl during this revealing tirade showed little emotion herself. Neither anger nor fear. She simply stared attentively. Once he finished, she calmly stated, "Sir, I neither meant to offend you or mock the solemnity of the piece. I have very valid reasons why I preformed the way I did."

"Then please, enlighten me."

"Well," she paused, "from the research I gathered, Wildecox was a grandchild of one of the victims of the Massacre, correct?"

Lord Preston said tightly, "Yes."

"He, I think, wrote The Lament to express not only the sorrows of his family and all those that had fallen but to also emulate a sense of victory. A reminder to others that even though the barbarians tried to slaughter every member in the village, they didn't. Many may have died but the barbarians didn't win over them. They still had Normild."

He locked his jaw, glaring at the girl. Tiffany had watched the exchange quietly with raised eyebrows of her own. Stepping forward, she forced a smile at Preston.

"My lord, you certainly have an excellent ear for music. And your knowledge—"

"Girl," Lord Preston coldly interrupted. The arcus player who had been in the middle of walking away with her instrument stopped and turned around. "What is your name?"

"Gretty, your lordship," she replied smoothly then curtsied. Smiling in moderation, she spun back to her previous course and began towards to the door.

Lord Preston's black stare remained even after she left the ballroom. All of his 'friends' gathered around him.

"What an insolent girl. I mean, she plays so well but did she have no shame speaking to a nobleman like that? As is she was Lord Preston's equal?" A woman crowed behind him.

"And what a name! Gretty. Sounds so ugly. I wouldn't wish it for the world to be named that. Poor thing." Another giggled fiendishly.

"Now, now, you two, my brother assured me that she is one of the best arcus players in Lawence but comes from a very poor village. Her rude behavior can be blamed on ill breeding and ignorance, my lord," Lady Presill stated with an almost pitying voice.

Tiffany hesitantly laid her hand on him. "Yes, my lord. You were absolutely right to criticize her—"

"Enough," Lord Preston said. He then flashed a truly alarming smile at her. "Don't you have anything else better to do than hang on the coattails of others? Go grovel before some other poor man and leave me. I tire of your incessant prattling."

She froze as if someone had coated her skin in a layer of ice. Staring at him, she didn't move. The woman who had snickered about the arcus player's 'unfortunate' name now let out a trill laugh.

"Are you deaf as well as dumb, pig girl? His lordship asked you to leave."

"Yes," another joined, smirking heartlessly, "he's gotten tired of your insipid company. What are you waiting for? Standing there will only further your embarrassment. Run along, pig girl."

"Yeah, run, pig girl, run!"

A half drunken chant of 'run, pig girl, run' spurred Tiffany into a desperate, ash-faced run for the doors. I could only watch in horrified silence as she tripped on her sprint up the steps. The crowd eagerly reveled in her mortification, laughing and mocking as their chant grew in strength and viciousness. I caught a glimpse at her face. Tears flowed as she plucked herself up and ran full strength out of the ballroom, leaving the shoe behind.

"Tiffany," I whispered, pained.

The white-hot rage didn't click until I heard _his _voice say with a mocking coldness, "I can see why you all call her pig girl. She certainly has the grace and wit of one."

_No. Not again. I won't stand by, helpless, while Tiffany gets harassed and beaten down! I _will_ protect her this time!_

My arms shook from the fury and all the sudden, my head felt light as a feather and my mouth moved but it wasn't my voice that came out of it.

"_What did you just say_?"  
Although I spoke at an even tone, the words sliced through the shrill laughter and struck right at its intended target. Preston turned around. Eyes glinting black and a mirthless smile to his lips, he leaned on his cane and took a deep drink of his wine.

"My, my, seems we have offended the pig girl's valiant protector."

The others laughed. That same high feeling shrouded my mind in black anger yet I found myself grounded, more than I had ever been before in my entire life.

"Well, judging the way you're holding those fists and glaring at me all murderous like, you disagree with how I handled that young woman. But even you, boy, noticed the way she was following me around much as a lost puppy does; begging for some poor sap to take pity on it and take it home so it could be then fed and doted on until it grows fat and happy. All her doe eyes and big smiles were just a way to get me to slip my family ring on her finger, nothing more. She acted disgracefully and got her just reward."

During his whole, grand speech, Demarque advanced towards me. Stopping a few feet away from me, he drained the last of his glass. He lowered his voice to where only my brother and I could hear him.

"It is indeed a shame, I must admit. She has such a supple body and a pleasant fragrance and was so eager to please me. I imagine that if I hadn't lost my temper, I could have invited her over to my estate and she would have happily obliged to warm my bed for an evening or two."

My jaw locked and I saw red. Before Ken could grab me, my fist had already closed the distance between the lord and I. Preston fell backwards. His empty glass broke and his cane clattered onto the marble. Clutching his face, Lord Preston lay on the floor half-sitting up in a daze. All of it happened so fast, in such surreal motion, that it wasn't until my hand began to throb that I realized _I _had been the one that had caused it all. The women that had been jeering me now screamed and sobbed, running to help their fallen celebrity. The once fine trembling became a pronounced shaking, my heart knocking in my chest.

The high and mighty feeling expanded until my head started to hurt.

"You brute! You hit Lord Preston!"

"Someone call a healer!"

"Someone call the _guards_ to take that maniac away!"

"I wouldn't help him up, ladies, if I were you," came my brother's smooth voice.

It startled me. He gazed at Lord Preston wearing a calm smile but an unforgiving glare. I stood in a kind of paralysis, staring at Ken. I had never, ever, in all my years of living with my brother seen that kind of expression. The women seemed just as shocked. They acted torn, wondering if they should help the lord or listen to their idol.

One woman pointed at me. "He struck his lordship when all he was doing was explaining himself."

"That man there spoke about Tiffany in a highly ungentlemanly-like fashion. My brother was merely defending the honor of his lady friend when he struck him."

Ken took a step forward. He spoke still in a stinging voice.

"Only a pathetic lowlife belittles and treats woman with such disrespect. She may have purposefully sought your attention but she did nothing that deserved that kind of treatment. In fact, if I may recall, she acted with complete grace and composure as you shoved her off of you and said appalling things to her. You were the one that strung her along all evening until you decided you grew tired of her, as if she were an object and something that could be thrown away. It is a kind of behavior that is, quite frankly, disgusting. You deserve what my brother gave you."

I blinked at my brother's back. The women crept away from Lord Preston, glaring at him. They acted deceived; innocent lambs led astray by a wolf in disguise. They whispered and gave nasty looks. The room's animosity had switched from me to Preston Demarque and he felt it. He ran his fingers through his hair as he stood up, cane in hand, and dusted himself off. A large red welt had begun to form on his eye socket and cheekbone. He bowed stiffly, smiling without warmth.

"Please pardon my 'disgusting' behavior, young master. I believe I had too much to drink this evening. To prevent myself from inflicting any further atrocities, I shall retire to my quarters. I bid you all to have a good night and thank you for a splendid party."

Head held high, he exited. Soon, the ballroom came alive again. A hand clamped onto my trembling shoulder. I gazed up into a beaming yet tired smile.

"Go on, brother. Go save your princess."

I blinked. _Stars above, Tiffany! _I didn't care if anyone stared. I broke out into a fierce run through and out of the doors, clutching onto Tiffany's lost shoe. It led to a maze of long corridors and ornately decorated rooms. None of them held Tiffany. Right when I was about to yell out in frustration, I spotted two tall glass-paned doors leading out to the Laples Estate gardens. Breathing heavily, I opened them and surveyed the grounds.

"Ta-T-Tiffany? You out here?"

No response. My eyes caught a shiny beacon of blonde hair through the long line of hedges. I breathed deeply and walked towards it. I could hear faint sobbing as I got closer. By all the stars in the sky, she looked breathtaking in the moonlight. Her chin remained tipped upwards, staring up into black and silver, tears sliding down her cheeks. I coughed awkwardly into my hand once I stood a few feet away from her. She didn't make any inclination to me being there. The tears caught the moonlight and fell down her face like liquid crystals onto her lap.

"I know you want to say it," she said stonily.

I asked, "Sa-say what?"

"Oh, come on, Conor, you know exactly what I mean."

Her bitter tone didn't catch me by surprise. In fact, I almost welcomed it. If she wanted to throw all her hatred and pain at me, then so be it. If it made her feel better, I didn't care.

"I da-da-don't, Ta-Tiffany."

Her head spun towards me, eyes full of self-loathing. "'I told you so, Tiffany. I knew it was bound to fail.' Or how about, 'That's what you get, Tiffany, for being so damn desperate.' Or, 'You should have known that would happen, Tiffany. To everybody all you'll ever be is a damn pig girl and nothing else! You should be ashamed you thought you could be something more.'"

Seeing such pain…such deep pain…was wrenching my heart apart. I quietly knelt before Tiffany. Holding the shoe in my hands, I stared straight into her glistening eyes.

"I wa-wasn't going to say anything like that at all. What I wa-was ga-going to say is that tonight, you weren't a pig girl. You were the ma-ma-most beautiful girl in the ballroom. You danced so gracefully, so wonderfully, every woman in the room ha-hated you and wa-wa-wanted to be you. You smiled, you acted, and you ta-talked like a true lady. Practically a princess."

Her chin trembled as she pursed her lips. A soft, timid smile had begun to bloom. Seeing it made a small part of me soar higher than the night clouds. I reached over and dared to take her gloved hands into mine. She sat rigid, staring at me.

"You da-did na-nothing wrong, Tiffany. You have to know that."

When she didn't speak, I pulled out her other shoe. Leaning over, I gently took the soft flesh of calf and guided the rightful owner into the heel. A wild warmth cascaded up and down my body, lingering after the touch. Yet, I mustered the strength to look right at her as I said with a crooked grin, "Besides, pig girls wouldn't be able to wear pretty dresses and heels the way you can."

I expected a laugh, a shout, a scream, an insult, a kick to the head; _anything_ but what I actually received. She didn't say a word. Leaning down, she took my glasses. I wasn't exactly angry, more puzzled by this gesture since it was done so gently. She held my hands as she suddenly stood. Right when I was about to ask why she had taken my glasses, she cut me off, saying, "I like to look in my partners eyes as I dance. It helps me concentrate. Come on."

_Dance?_

I followed her to an open area of the gardens, very aware of the warmth of her skin underneath the fabric of her gloves and dress. With no apology or blush to be seen, she pulled one of my arms around her waist and put one of my hands into her own. The other gloved hand settled on my shoulder near the neck. I froze. She simply smiled that taunting smile she always wore when I wasn't doing what she wanted.

"I know you know the steps, Conor."

"I-I, uh…" I couldn't think. Not being this close in this kind of position. I coughed. "I-I-I…"

"It's okay, I'll start for us both."

Tiffany then smiled that old smile, the one with true brilliance. It nearly stopped my heart from beating. She then began the turns, beginning the rhythm. Hourly drills from instructors kicked in and in no time, I was the one leading, eyes unwavering on hers. At one point, she buried her head in my chest, clutching the back of my shirt while still holding my hand. It felt so right, to have her like that, that I closed my eyes and held her closer. We stopped moving. Somehow, I knew that this was the moment I had to tell her the truth.

Pulling her away so that I could gaze in her face, I caressed milky cheek with the back of my hand and my thumb. For once, it didn't shake. My heart was calm. Even without my glasses, I could see the intensity, the vulnerability, of those green jewels. Cradling her neck in one hand, I pulled her close with the other as I gently kissed her. I felt her lips move unsure under mine. Unsure, but not displeased with it. Encouraged, I explored the contact deeper. Her body trembled as her hands settled on my arms, angling her head. I broke the kiss but didn't move away. Grazing my lips along her neck, I planted a kiss near the ear. She shivered, gasping aloud.

"I love you, Tiffany," I whispered hoarsely.

Her chest dipped in and out in deep, unsteady breaths. "I—I…"

I looked down into her eyes. They glittered with want but also conflict. A thousand sharp jabs pierced my chest. _She doesn't want me in the way I want her. _Placing my finger on her lips, I stopped her when she opened her mouth again.

"I know. You da-don't quite love me like that. I understand."

"It's not that! Well, I don't really know how I feel about you…I mean, I thought _before_ you only as a friend but _now_…I mean, I didn't think…I would want you like this…It's all so sudden…I need time to think about all this, especially after everything that's happened tonight."

She ducked her head. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.

Holding her chin, I brought her head up again.

"Don't apologize. I'm a pa-patient man, Tiffany. Ta-take all the time you need."

Giving a watery smile, she nodded. "Thank you."

"Hmph, this is madness…Who-who ever tha-thought these numbers were sound wa-were out of their damn minds," I growled deeply as I adjusted my spectacles.

"Be careful, Conor, or you'll get that scowl on your face and I'll have to take those away."

I spun around, lips parted, heart painfully bouncing around in my chest. My eyes slowly wandered from her head to her toes, savoring every second of her standing form in my office doorway. A purple, wide brimmed hat slanted over her green eyes, a large white plume jutting out the top. All of her blonde tresses were braided and ribboned behind her neck. Her amused lips were painted a ruby red, cheeks dimpling. A deep purple dress cascaded down her body, forming a v on her chest. Heat shot up to my ears as I gazed at how form-fitting it was. The girl laughed. Stars above, it was as if the sound became a sword thrusting into my heart.

"Didn't your mother teach you it's rude to stare? Besides, you're looking at me like I'm a ghost! It's hasn't been that long since we've seen each other."

I coughed, stopping myself from ogling at her any further. By the Old Kings, Tiffany had only become more beautiful in our time apart. Clearing my throat, I said,  
"I-It's been a ya-year, Ta-Tiffany."

She shrugged. Nonchalantly gliding across the room, she marveled at all the instruments, globes, and paper scattered about. I watched her. Something began to nag at me as the silence stretched on.

"Tiffany, wh-why are you ha-here?"

"Can't I visit and congratulate my friend for his success? You are now the heir to your parent's fish trading company and living in Narris. From what I've heard back home, ever since your brother refused the title and passed it onto you, you've done wonders here. You've increased productivity and revenue just by fixing oversights made by their accountants."

I took off my spectacles and set them on the table while I rubbed my eyes, feeling suddenly grim. Sure, I felt elated to see her here in my office praising my efforts in all her splendor. But…how could I forget our last conversation?

After the incident at the Laples Estate, Tiffany packed her bags and told me that she decided she was going to Fibble to visit her parents. Standing there in her room, I had to grip the door to keep myself from running over, yanking away her luggage, and demanding she stay with me. I was willing at that moment to take back all that I had done in the garden and say she didn't have to make a choice. We could remain exactly the way we were just as friends…Anything, only if she'd stay. The girl spoke five cutting words when I asked her why she needed to leave.

"I need time to think."

So, I watched her go, not knowing whether I'd ever see her again. The weeks of heart ache…Well, it was a time period I didn't choose to willingly think about. And right when I thought I got my life figured out, this laughing, mocking form of purple comes sweeping in like nothing had changed. I stood up. I clenched my fists tight as I scrounged up my courage.

"Tiffany," I called quietly.

She innocently replied, "Yes?"

"Wh-wh-why are ya-you here, really?"

It was funny but not having on the spectacles helped. Tiffany turned around and picked up a couple of papers. She pretended to be interested in what was written on them. Exhaling harshly, I walked over and slid the papers from her fingers. _Always the child, Tiffany. Always trying to avoid the problem when the problem is you. Unable to take responsibility. _Her ridiculously large hat hid her expression. Reaching over, I gently took off the hat and tossed it on the table. Surprisingly, she didn't swat at me or childishly stomp and whine. She just stood still, staring at the wall straight ahead of her.

"Tiffany."

Her name was uttered as a whisper, more tender than I had intended. The memory of holding her in my arms was clouding my judgment. I took her chin and turned her head to look up at me. There was no confident Tiffany anymore. Tears were perched on the rims of her eyes.

"Conor, I missed you so much. I…It hurt so bad leaving you to go to Fibble…And when I found out what you had done to Lord Preston, for me, I just…I…"

My heart twisted as hope grasped onto it. She backed away, shaking her head, while covering her face with her fingers.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this. I came here…I came here to tell you that we can't be together."

I reached for her then froze. Her shoulders trembled as she continued behind her hands, "I-It's better this way, you see? You're successful now…You can be happy. You can marry a pretty noblewoman and have pretty children and be known as the kind, generous, wonderful person you are with nothing dragging you down. You'll be respected, and…and…"

"Wha-what?" I murmured, shocked to the core. She fell into a desperate kind of weeping, shaking her head faster.

"I-I-I have to leave! I'm sorry I bothered you."

Whirling around, she began for the door. I took her hand. Pulling her into me, I held her waist and cupped her cheek. She parted her trembling lips to protest, her eyes sparkling with reluctance. I didn't care one bit. I lowered my lips on hers and moved them in a much less gentle fashion then our first kiss. I expected her to shove me away. I could feel her uncertainty at first even as she reciprocated. But soon her arms were around my shoulders, fingers in my hair, holding onto me desperately. I broke the kiss, gazing into her eyes as she panted, flushed.

"Admit it, Tiffany. You love me."

Her large eyes rounded. "I…I can't, Conor," she whispered.

"I-If this is a-about your mother and ya-your family affecting my rep-reputation, I don't care."

"But," she countered, "I've already done so much damage already…Your family is ridiculed because you are friends with me…"

"Tiffany," I interrupted firmly. "I-I love you. That's all that matters."

She paused. Confliction still plagued her conscious. Pursing her lips, she said, "You say that now…"

"No. I say that forever."

It was a corny line but I meant it. Her brow stayed crumpled until she stared directly into my eyes. As if she saw the truth behind the words I spoke, she smiled faintly with a little of that wicked spark in her.

"You really are stubborn, aren't you?"

"La-look who-who's talking?" I grinned.

She threw that glare that I loved so much.

"Conor, I was being serious!"

I plucked my lips across hers. Exasperated and dazed, she pulled away. It gave me smug satisfaction to see it. She stomped her foot indignantly, "Stop doing that!"

"Tha-that was for messing up my paperwork. _This_," I pulled her body tight against mine and kissed her thoroughly, "is for leaving me."

She glanced at me beneath her eyelashes, mumbling out of breath,

"You're a lot bolder than what I remember."

"Well," I said thoughtfully, "not all knights c-can be Pr-Princes of Charm."

Tiffany blinked at me. "What?"

"Na-Nothing, my dear, nothing. Say, wo-would you like a ta-tour of Narris? It's rather lovely this time of year and there are some shops on the southside of town I have yet to visit."

"I would love one," Tiffany beamed.

_She really hasn't altered that much…So changeable, so quick to move onto the next entertainment…_It was precisely why I loved her.

She swept up her purple hat. Bowing grandly, I offered my arm.

"My lady."

"My lord."

Her arm linked perfectly through mine. I knew it wasn't going to be easy being with Tiffany. I knew headache and frustration was bound to result. But, I would always stand by her side no matter rough it got. She was the one that saw me when no one else did…I would leap across valleys, climb mountains, trek deserts for her. There was no such a thing as a world without her…_All this_, I grinned to myself, _because of a certain confrontation five years ago involving a distressed fifteen year old girl and a bored sixteen year old boy._

THE END


	3. Chapter 3

The Tale of Gretty and Preston

*"Beauty and the Beast"*

I brought the steaming cup to my lips. A soft smile accompanied my gaze at the young couple before me.

"Molly," Brichard glowered at his bustling, whistling, oblivious and pregnant wife. She simply refused to stop for a second, heedless of both her husband's and my wishes. Placing a hand on her swollen belly and another on the small of her back as she waddled over to the table where me and Brichard were seated at, she chuckled, "Oh, hush, darling, I'm not made of glass! I'll be fine…"

Brichard sat back and crossed his arms. And although concern and a small tinge of frustration painted his features, the love and amusement he held for my childhood friend's antics won him over. Short hair swayed past her shoulders when she seated herself next to me. Beaming, she put her ringed hand over my lax hand that rested on the wood.

"Gretty, you have to tell us everything about your trips and your performances. What was it like? Were there a lot of people? Did they love it? That's a silly question, I bet they loved it. You play the arcus beautifully. Oh, did you go to a castle? Did you? I mean, it was all so mysterious and exciting. That rich man hired you for his sister's party practically across the kingdom and he sent a fancy carriage with a footman to get you as if you were a noble lady. Didn't he say you were the _only_ arcus player that he could get because not only you're the best around but you also trained underneath a master and well-respected musician known across the Seven Kingdoms? "

Molly excitedly bobbed up and down in her chair, clasping her hands together. She was in one of her excited states, eyes bright and teeth flashing. It was hard to resist such a genuinely happy person like Molly. Brichard chuckled across the table, sensing that if not stopped, Molly would simply keep going. "Dear, let Gretty tell her story."

I laughed as I met his eyes, thanking him with a nod. "Well," I paused, unsure where to begin. "It _was _a nice carriage…"

My brow furrowed as my thumb slid across the rim of my cup. In all honesty, the whole experience in the past year had passed as nothing short of surreal. Something like a dream. First that nobleman—Lord Vargus, was it?—showed up at my family's doorstep without warning, demanding that I play at his sister, Lady Presill's, ball in return for a handsome pay. I could hardly ignore the offer. My father and mother were by no means poor but they had put everything into my arcus lessons with Fillip Blive; the certain 'master and well-respected musician known across the Seven Kingdoms' that Molly spoke of. My Master was an acquaintance of my father's but it wasn't until my father forked out the King's Coppers and Silvers and begged on his knees for me to be taught that I was blessed with such a phenomenal teacher. And although my parents and my siblings always showered me with support and love on the matter, I saw that in sacrifice to make my dream into reality, they toiled away on our farm with little to no luxury in their daily lives.

So, when I complied and grabbed my arcus and one bag with my most personal possessions, I traveled to the infamous Laples Estate. It was a grand home that although it wasn't a castle, had been full of First Age architecture, lush gardens, beautiful art, and a sense of aristocracy that seemed beyond my grasp of ever achieving. My stay itself, after meeting Lady Presill and her new husband, was one of pampering and relaxation. The servants did everything they could to make me, a common nineteen year old girl from some farm in an obscure village with not a Copper to her name, comfortable. Once I heard that there was a widely known Salirian nobleman visiting the Estate as well, I eagerly prepared one of my favorite works by Wildecox, a Salirian composer, to play at the ball. It was a piece close to me and I hoped it would be mature enough yet not too dark for the audience there. What I actually received in response to my performance startled me...

After Lady Presill presented me and I played the piece, I was greeted with an applause that told me that they had enjoyed it. All, except one. That Salirian nobleman…Lord Preston Demarque de Torenchsi. He held the physique and charm that made women swoon before his feet. But there was a darkness to him as well. I felt it as I played. The way he watched my movements as if he was criticizing everything I was doing…everything I _was_. To feel such intensity made my spine shiver. It was like…I wasn't playing for the nobles or Lady Presill; I was playing for him. I wasn't surprised entirely when he spoke up.

"_Your playing is commendable. If, of course, you like those sort of things."_

The words of my Master surfaced into my mind as I had stared into two black, glinting eyes: _"You must play from your very soul. You must even let the ugliness of your heart bleed through your fingers, my student. Let it be raw. Let it be real. That it is what music is. It is a piece of the soul, a story, of the one that wrote it. There will be those that cannot face such naked truths and will reject your work. But you mustn't let it shake you. Those that reject it wrestle fiercely with their own dark beasts."_

As soon as I heard Lord Preston's words and looked into his eyes, I found myself not angry but calm. Because I sensed I unnerved him in some deep way. How and why, I had not the slightest clue. What followed was a tit-for-tat conversation that I promptly concluded in saying that I didn't play the Lament of Almuim in the manner I did to insult the Salirian kingdom, but in celebration of those that lived and the legacy of triumph of the people of Normild, whom the song was written of, over their barbarian oppressors that had threatened to wipe out their entire village. When I had turned away, I heard the nobleman call at my back, "Girl."

Somehow, I knew that it was meant for me. I faced him. "What is your name?" he had asked. I had not the slightest idea why'd he ask such a thing of a commoner. Nonetheless, I told him with a polite smile and curtsy and walked away. As was expected. It was by no means an extraordinary encounter. Compared to the other places I visited and venues I played after that night at the Laples Estate, it was very uninteresting. Then, why did such harsh flutterings occur in my core at the memory?

Presently, I raised my chin at my friend. She was still expecting her story. A smile crinkled at the edges of my mouth. In detail, I told her of my journey and what I saw and did. She practically shook me till my bones rattled once I told her what happened between the Salirian and I.

"You _said_ to those things to his _face_, Gretty?!"

"Of course," I said calmly, "how else would I have?"  
She knew I was merely teasing but she continued to push me side to side in my chair, gasping and exclaiming, pressing for more. A knock interrupted her interrogation. Brichard went to the door, his usually warm eyes now sharpened to a degree. Molly and I looked over our shoulders when Brichard opened it wide.

"Yes," he said with an edge.

A tall, bald, thin man wearing a long black coat with emerald green stitching on its edges and emerald green buttons swept a white gloved hand while bowing before Brichard. His voice was deep and rich, full of Salirian accent.

"Pardon my intrusion, sir. My name is Molokov and I come under orders of my master, Lord Preston Demarque de Torenchsi, to give a young lady by the name of Gretty a letter. I was told by her family that I'd find her here."

Brichard gave a deeply puzzled, if not unsettled, look my way. I blinked, frowning, as my heart did an odd little jump in my chest. I walked over to where the two men stood and said, "You have been told correctly, Mister Molokov. I am she."

The man did not show a flicker of emotion at this news. He bowed marginally then reached into his back pocket to reveal an elegantly written letter with my name written in clean, clear Lawencian on its front. I glanced at it, turning it over once in my hand. I bobbed my head once at the servant and spoke in the way I had been taught by Master Fillip.

"Thank you for hand delivering it to me. You must tell your master that the sentiment is much appreciated."

At this, the man did fidget. "He also told me that it is intended to be read immediately upon arrival."

Molly teetered her way over. "Right now? I mean, I'm still at a loss of how your master located Gretty…"

"He asked the Lady Presill, I believe, miss."

"Madam," Brichard corrected, eyeing the man.

"My apologies, sir," the servant bowed, expressionless.

I broke the wax seal and opened the letter. Molly and Brichard shot each other glances as they watched me read.

Above the salutation, it stated, _"Please forgive my poor, awkward Lawencian, seeing at is not my native language. If I write anything that at all offends Lawencian custom, please also forgive me for it is not my intention._

"_Drastruvitye, Gretty:_

_I'm sure you don't remember who I am, but we met at the Laples Estate, at Lady Presill's, a year ago. I never quite got the chance to properly introduce myself. My name is Preston Demarque de Torenchsi. I am, as you can probably deduce yourself, ignorant of Lawencian culture. This is due to the fact that although I often came to Lawence as a young child, I was reared with a Salirian upbringing. Our meeting at Laples Estate proved that, I'm sure. Music in my kingdom is taken very seriously and is often subjugated to critique, albeit bad or good. It is socially acceptable to question a performer's technique directly in their presence. I shamefully consumed that night far too much wine for my own good and went too far in critiquing your performance, to even my nation's standards. It was a grave mistake and one I'm so very sorry for. It opened my eyes to just how ignorant I am to this kingdom's ways. _

"_Although I have no right to ask this of you, I humbly request your aid in correcting this. I've heard from many reparable sources that you've been trained in many genres, specializing in classical pieces, and you were tutored in the arts. Your praise is great as well your reputation. Playing the arcus is something of a hobby of mine; one to which I take wholeheartedly in my daily life. It would greatly please me if you, someone who's held in such high esteem for her skill at the instrument, could help further my knowledge and become my Master at classical Lawencian pieces. I would have asked at a much more appropriate and sooner time if I hadn't been called back to Saliria for business for the last year. I, however, am back and living in my family's vacation home in the Furtwood territory. I plan on staying for six months. It is my hope that in these six months, you'd stay in my home and act as my tutor and guide. You will be compensated in every way for your efforts with a pay rate of 200 King's Gold per month._

"_Due to time constraints, I have ordered Molokov, my Master Servant, to take you directly to my home as soon as you read this letter. It is highly unorthodox, I know, but rest assured you need only a spare change of clothes and your instrument if you indeed agree to my proposal. Molokov will take care of you and make sure you want for nothing._

_I anxiously await your arrival if you do agree and if you don't, I will say that it was a pleasure meeting you and may all your endeavors end with success._

_Preston Demarque de Torenchsi."_

I blinked, staring down. Despite myself, I was trembling. Molly stepped forward. The small hands touched my shoulder blade in concern.

"Gretty? Is everything all right?"

My stomach twisted into knots. I hadn't formed a positive first impression of Lord Preston at the Laples Estate. And it wasn't due to his 'critique' as he so believed…It was because of he, himself. There was much to the man that I felt was dangerous. But…_This is such an exceptional opportunity, _my mind chimed. _200 King's Gold. 200. There are so many things I could do with that money. I could provide for my family. Give back to the village. Give back to Molly for being my only and ever loyal friend. That's more than I've made in an entire year of travel…I have to do this. For all that my family has sacrificed for me, I can stand to be in Lord Preston's presence for six months. I'd be a fool to pass over such a chance._

"Yes," I replied firmly, "it is…"

Although my heart pounded in my chest, I raised my head at the awaiting Molokov.

"My answer is yes."

"Answer…?" Brichard swiveled around, mouth forming a large O. "Wait, what is going on? What are you even talking about? What answer?"

He suddenly spun at the Master Servant with that glare of his. The man, unfazed, bowed.

"Yes, madam. I shall prepare the carriage and the horses immediately for our departure. I assume you have your instrument with you?"

"You are correct again, Molokov," I easily said, staring at the wall, feeling as if the words I spoke were without substance.

He bowed and disappeared. Meanwhile, Brichard nearly went into a frenzied ball of exclamations, ripping the letter from my fingers. Molly took my hands and looked into my eyes.

"That man wants you to go to the Furtwood territory for _six months_ and tutor him? After what he said to you?! Are you insane? Molly, please, talk sense into this girl!"

"Gretty?"

"Yes?"

She pursed her lips, gauged my facial expression, then smiled sadly.

"Try to stay warm over there. Furtwood is a cold place."

That produced a crooked smile in me. I leaned forward and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you, I will."

She always knew exactly what I was feeling and knew the right words to say. Brichard, however, had a hard time processing what was happening.

"But, _why_, Gretty?"

"Because, everyone around me has given everything they had to make my dream come true. It is time that I return the favor."

"What if he has less than noble intentions? I mean, doesn't it seem the least bit suspicious that he was so rude to you at the ball and now he's acting all innocent and good hearted?"

As I stood there, head bowed, forehead furrowed, I had a moment of blinding panic. _What if he is right? Should I not go?_ _I'm sure he won't be the only opportunity that comes along. I could keep traveling and performing. _I knew the truth, though. I was tired of traveling at the moment. I just wanted to stay in one place and rest in some peace and quiet. Perhaps continue my arts studies. If I tutored Lord Preston, I wouldn't have to travel for years to come. I could stay in the village with Molly and Brichard, and my family contently. Like before.

No, there was no turning back. I inhaled through my nose.

"Molly, please send word to my family of where I am going. Tell them I'll write to them as soon as I'm settled there."

"Absolutely," Molly grinned.

"You write to us, too, okay?" Grumbled the Shape-shifter next to us. "You're like family here."

My heart swelled at hearing the sentiment. I bowed my head deeply. "Thank you both so much for being such wonderful friends."

Molokov appeared at the doorstep. He bowed. "It is ready, madam."

Crossing the room, I picked up my bag and my precious arcus. I took one last glance at the home. It was a testament to the love between the young couple. Built by Brichard's hands and given warmth with Molly's smile. Even though today was the first day I had ever seen it, (although Molly wrote about it so often in her letters) I knew, somehow, that I would not see it again for a long, long time and the feeling saddened me. Hugs were exchanged and without looking back, I went through the door.

I was startled awake. I did not know what dream I had had but my blood hummed throughout my body in an alarming fashion. _Another one_, I grimly thought to myself. Blinking into black surroundings, I heard a shift beside me, underneath the covers. Chestnut waves cascaded across the pillow next to mine and as my eyes adjusted, I saw the pale naked shoulder of my previous night's partner lift and fall with each inhale and exhale. _Ah. I remember now. That girl…What was her name again? Lidia? Shayla? Natia? _It didn't matter, really. It always went like this. I'd go to some business function or social gathering and bring home a fun, brightly painted toy to play with for the night. They were all the same. The smiles, the laughs, the pretenses of innocence, the lustful look in the eye, the greed. They were substance-less hags wearing paint. Intellectually dull ones at that. With nothing more than a flick of my wrist, the right words, and the right expression, I reeled them in and got them to succumb to my every whim. More than a handful of them thought they knew how to turn the game back on me, make me the novice and they the master. But I always won.

Quietly slipping back the sheets, I stood up and stretched. It would be morning soon. My eye caught the beautifully hand carven wood arcus on the plush chair in the corner of the room. The slight form of the arcus player, one I saw so many, many nights ago filled my mind.

_The way her fingers fluttered on the bridge of the instrument and she swayed in place as she touched the bow across the strings…Such grace. Such strength. Her brow was furrowed as if she was in pain, yet her mouth was lax. There was control and precision in all she did. There were not many I had seen in my years that contained that much raw talent. Her execution was flawless…Just watching her pale neck arch and body sway as she played thrilled me. 'Who is this?' I thought to myself. 'This creature of unrivaled ability?' The wine made my blood warm._

_The piece…What had she done with Wildecox's masterpiece? Whatever she was doing it was stirring something deep inside me. A disturbing feeling. I pushed my way through the crowd. I should speak up, I told myself. It would only be right. She's butchering one of your nation's greatest works. Yet, the more I watched her, this mottled songbird in rags, the closer I came to tears. _

_Rage bubbled up inside me. It was wrong. All wrong. This mottled songbird in rags should be a golden canary. Playing before kings in silks and pearls amongst the elite of society. Not here…_

_My thoughts whirled together._

_No, a commoner isn't allowed to be a golden canary. She can't just change the Lament of Almuim. That's disrespectful. It isn't _right_. _

_It isn't _right_. _It isn't right_…_

_Suddenly, I was revolted with everything. Myself. The room. The people in it. Because it was all so damn fake compared to the song; compared to her._

_Something tugged at my arm. I knew it was that wretched, desperate girl. Didn't she see I was busy? I tore myself away from her and without taking my eyes off the performer, moved through the crowd once again. Once the song concluded, the songbird's eyes opened and I was pierced with ice blue. By the gods, did those eyes drive me mad…They were clear and penetrating…_

There's no such thing_, my mind darkly rebuked. The anger helped me remember who I was. I wasn't_ captivated_ by this common peasant. I was Preston Demarque de Torenchsi. A pure-bred noble. A man that had his fill with any wealthy, prestigious lady he wanted. He had bed women whose beauty far surpassed this one. This was just a girl like any other. Besides, what self-respecting man would want a girl with such a mark upon her face like a blotching stain?_

_Even I was disgusted with myself for possessing such a thought. Yet, I continued to hold onto my anger. Anything, to keep myself from slipping…But I was too late._

Gretty.

The name caused a sour churn in my stomach. A peasant. A nobody. A mere ragamuffin that had managed to plague my thoughts day and night. I couldn't remember the woman I had cavorted with for an entire evening but I could envision even in my most drunken state Gretty's eyes, her hair, her smile, her gestures. Leaning over, I poured myself some strong drink and tipped back the glass in one fell swoop. The numbing burn traveled down my throat. I gripped the cup tightly.

"_Sorceress._" I breathed the word aloud in Salirian.

It was the only explanation I had to explain the letter I wrote to her, practically groveling on my hands and knees to come to my estate. The ruse was ridiculous. I had no need for a teacher. I was well-versed in classical Lawencian arts. They were quite linear and boring. But it was the only way I could think of for her to come. I needed some excuse to lure her here…I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I saw her, then the dreams would go away and I'd finally find peace from the torment. I had also assumed that by sending off Molokov, letter in hand, I'd be somewhat relieved. The truth proved to be quite the contrary. Ever since he left me four nights ago, the dreams and anxiety increased to the point of madness. I often thought of useless thoughts like: 'What if she said no? What if she comes? What's taking them so long? What if something happened to Molokov on the way there? What if something happened to the both of them on the way here?'

Fabric rustled behind me. A low groan was followed by a groggy, "Baby? Wha-where you—oh. You're over there."

I stared forward, still clenching the cup in my hand. The woman giggled, "Baby, what are you doing up? It's still dark out. Come back to bed. It's awful cold and lonely being in this big ol' bed by myself."

My jaw tightened. By the gods, her voice was annoying. I poured myself another glass full. Something slid across the bed. Naked arms wrapped around my middle from behind.

"I'm not going to warm up myself, you know," murmured the girl into my ear. She trailed kisses from beneath my ear to my neck and shoulder.

They gave no comfort. Nor did they arouse in me the will to repeat last night's performance. I only felt disgust. It bubbled up wretchedly from the back of my throat, shooting up to my head. Rigidly unlocking her grasp, I walked to my drawers and withdrew a pair of pants. As I put them on, she whined, "But, _baby_…"

I spared no glance her way. I crossed the room, grabbed my arcus, and said with a black smile on my lips, "Don't fret, mukolka. There is plenty of time for us to warm each other later. I must practice my arcus before Molokov returns or he'll surely be cross with me."

She hopped back onto the bed. When I opened the door and directed the smile at her, she was biting her lower lip in a seducing pout, seated on her knees with the sheets gripped over her chest and intertwined in all the right places to make herself seem as appealing as possible. She changed her expression in what I could imagine was her version of 'sincere'.

"I'm sure Molokov wouldn't mind you missing one morning's practice. Surely he understands that a man with your kind of talent doesn't need it. A man like you deserves time to focus his energies on other things…And be allowed to indulge in the pleasures that life has to offer."

Her eyes gleamed as she tilted her head, eyeing me. I smirked in earnest now. "I'm sorry, darling. As irresistible as your offer is, if I know Molokov—which I do—he will arrive before the sun has had two hours in the eastern sky. I must have my morning practice and all my paperwork done before then or I shall never hear the end of it."

"Aww, alright, baby…"

"Rest well, mukolka," I winked and then exited.

True, Molokov was the man that taught me how to play the arcus but my true Master came when I was eight years old. Once he came, Molokov never tutored me again. Nor did he have any control over my business ventures. Lucky for me, the woman had not a single clue about this. I drew in the solitude of my music room, locked the door, and in the budding early dawn light, proceeded to throw myself into vigorous Salirian compositions. I frowned. My technique was flawless, of course, but there was…something lacking…This wasn't the first time I noticed this, either. It seemed that all I played produced that unsatisfied sensation in me.

_Perhaps I really do need Gretty's instruction_, I secretly said to myself.

_Or perhaps, your focus is being ruined thinking on this peasant. _

I straightened my back and used all the willpower I possessed in stripping my mind of anything and everything involving the sorceress. Even as sweat broke out on my skin and my hair flopped over my face from the furious activity, I didn't stop. If anything, the haunting melody only grew in pace and aggression with each verse.

That unease. Maybe it was because I was panting and I didn't want to frighten the servants or wake the woman in my bed, but I knew it was more than that. I still felt that feeling. Hollow echoes in my chest. No matter how much energy, force, technique, finesse I put forth, all of it was not enough. I couldn't do it the way the Lawencian had. My performance didn't evoke in me the slightest emotion. Hers could have made mountains weep at her feet. My fists clenched. _What am I missing?_

"Wildecox's 'Lament of Almuim'."

Electric waves rippled up my spine. I shot up from my chair, clutching the instrument in one hand and the bow in the other. For a moment, staring into an ice cold gaze, I forgot to breathe. My eyes traveled from the top of her plain bun, down to her slim face, sharp nose, expressionless lips, slender neck, and unremarkable dress that no doubt hid a unremarkable body. The sorceress in the flesh. The slender girl bowed and again her eyes flitted up to mine unflinchingly.

_By the gods, such eyes…_

"Forgive me for intruding upon your privacy, sir. I couldn't help but come and see the source of the exquisite music."

A warmth spread rapidly from deep inside at the compliment. Gretty crossed the room, taking it all in with an inquisitive eyebrow. I watched her, not moving a muscle. A part of me believed I was dreaming and if I moved, I'd shatter the illusion. She stopped a little ways from me.

"I must be frank you, sir, that although your offer is quite generous in exchange for my services, from what I heard you play…" She trailed off. An expression of wonderment lit her features. After her brow crumpled, she said, "I'm unsure, sir, if my teachings would benefit you. Your level of expertise of the arcus goes well beyond my own."

She stared long into my direction. For once, I was desperately grasping in my mind for a response. A lie, a story, a strategic yet charming redirect.

"Oh, you are too kind. As I said in the letter, I am merely a student. I am always learning. Constantly seeking to improve. Compared to you, I am a novice."

Gretty's eyes fell towards the instrument in my hand. She took several sure steps.

"Forgive my impertinence, my lord, but judging from your posture and the script on the back of the instrument, no doubt your name written in Salirian, you've been playing since you were a child, taught by a Master. And also, if I may be so bold as to say, the cracked spines on these books and the tattered looks of these scrolls suggest a very thorough interest in written music in all genres; a collection that must have taken years to build to this degree."

My lips parted, eyebrow cocked in surprise. I couldn't help but feel impressed. I eased myself onto a chair and with a nonchalant rolling of fingers pointed to my library.

"Alas, you are right. I was taught by a Master and have been playing since I was a child. But what I wrote to you is true. I was instructed in many different genres but my Master was Salirian and naturally favored its styles and composers. I can play Lawencian compositions but I am the kind of man that doesn't like to merely 'play'. I want to understand. Do you follow me?"

The woman didn't say anything for a time. Then, she nodded.

"Yes, I do. Then, if what you say is true and I am to be your Master, I would like to hear you play a Lawencian piece. Preferably one that you know most, if not all, of."

Grinning partially, I nodded back. "As you wish, my lady."

I tucked the instrument under my chin and announced, "Yowl's, 'Revenge of the Goddess'"

Gretty didn't sit down, nor did her scrutinizing gaze move anywhere other than my hands. It wasn't a difficult piece and I knew it well. One part of me, however, was anxious. It wanted her to be amazed again. Her opinion suddenly meant everything. Once finished, I set the arcus down.

"So," I gave a saucy grin, "how did I do, Master?"

For a moment she did not speak. It was a habit, I realized, while collecting her thoughts.

"Do you know the story behind 'Revenge of the Goddess', sir?"

"No," I paused, "I don't."

It was a half-truth. I carried vague memories of the Lawencian lore taught in my lecture days but this was one that didn't ring any bells.

"The story is as old as our kingdom, as legends go. It is about the goddess of justice, Iustitia, daughter of the gods, Ailema and Drujäd, who sacrificed her life among her people to be with her beloved, a mortal. They had a child together and lived in blissful harmony. Until, one day, an evil woman by the name of Sibyl decided to bewitch Iustitia's husband into infidelity. When Iustitia came home with her child and found another woman locked in her husband's arms, she froze in shock. The woman took her husband and disappeared. On that day, Iustitia swore to reap vengeance upon them both. She was once known as a good hearted, fair, although strong minded goddess. But after what happened, she became something that even the gods feared. She believed all deceitful and all capable of treachery. She slaughtered, lied, stole, and dealt merciless punishment upon the wicked in her quest. She'd do anything to find the sorceress. Inside, however, Iustitia suffered great and terrible pain; of sadness, betrayal, loneliness. Those feelings were exactly the kind that Yowl sought to capture. A once pious woman in love with a man so much so that she stripped her godly rights for him becomes the blackest essence of revenge, destroying everything in her path, due to her pain."

Carrying a subtly cheeky grin, I remarked, "Well, isn't that quite a lovely children's story."

The icy daggers were accentuated by a raised brow. "Since you seem very serious about this, my lord, I will be frank with you. If I hadn't witnessed you playing both the 'Lament of Almuim' and the 'Revenge of the Goddess' I would have suspected they were played by two different people."

The grin vanished. I straightened, eyes narrowing, blood begin to burn. She didn't back down but she stopped, lips pursed.

"Do go on."

Gretty slowly yet elegantly clasped her hands before her. The pose sent me back to my tutor days, when they'd gather their calm, fasten their hands together just so in order to restrain their fingers from wringing my neck.

"You claim to yearn for a better understanding of Lawencian culture so you can extend your knowledge and thus become a better arcus player. But from what I heard, you are completely disconnected from the music. There was no soul, none of that vulnerability in which you displayed for the 'Lament.' I could feel the sadness, the despair, the rage, the yearning of the piece clear across the estate. It was magnificent. The 'Revenge of the Goddess' vitally lacked those truths and it showed."

The knuckles on the arms of the chair turned white. _How _dare_ she?! How dare her, when I was taught by one of the most brilliant arcus Masters ever born! _More spiteful words crossed my mind. I kept my face at ease, smiling in dark mockery.

"You are quite right, Master…Perhaps I'd grasp the piece better if you were to play it the right way."

It was unclear whether she heard the sarcasm in the undercurrent of my words. She took my arcus and after plucking the strings for a minute or two, adjusting the knobs to her liking, she set it underneath her chin. Breathing deeply, she let the bow dramatically slide along the strings. My pricked pride melted as I sat back, allowing the music to wash over me. I was drawn inwardly by the chords steeped in malice and a profound anguish and suddenly, it felt real. I wanted to scream, to tear the sky apart and bring the world to oblivion because nothing mattered anymore. Once she finished, I blinked back to the present and the feelings vanished. There was nothing I could say.

She set down the arcus gently on the table alongside the bow. Smoothing her gown, she said simply, "My lord, after I properly put my belongings away and I have had my morning meal, I would like to go over that piece in more detail with you. Would three hours hence be suitable for you, sir?"

"So formal," I muttered, grinning. The girl curtsied and turned away. Her behavior was of how a young lady of lower ranking should behave before a lord of noble class, yet it irked me.

"Master Gretty," I called after her sweetly once she reached the doorstep. She paused, not missing a beat.

"Yes, my lord?"

"You are my teacher now and on these grounds you are going to be treated as such. You no longer have to call me by my title. Please, call me Preston."

I got up and crossed the room. Sweeping an arm across my chest in a bow, I took her hand into mine and kissed the top of it with a thief's grin. She stood statue still.

"I am at your command, my Master."

No blushing rose colored her ghastly pale, brown spattered cheeks. She held her head high then bobbed it once. She turned out of the room, leaving me standing with mixed emotions. One part of me admired her with each passing moment, the other irrationally frustrated for her unphased attitude. Both reached one conclusion, however. I was not going to let this girl win.

Unconsciously, I wrung the hand that the Lord—I mean, Preston—had kissed. The contact had caused my heart to twist in a frightful manner. The way my head had gone all fuzzy and my breathing uneven, I couldn't have been happier to leave his presence. Horrid luck, to be ill on my first day on the job! _Thank the stars, I didn't fall flat on my face in a dead faint. _I continued on this positive thought as I rounded the corner to where I had laid my belongings. Already, Molokov was waiting but the arcus and the bag were gone.

"Madam, I took the liberty of placing your things into your room. I also called upon the kitchen to have breakfast laid out in the dining room in the instance you were hungry."

"Thank you, Molokov, I am."

I quietly followed behind him, admiring the splendor of the home. Besides being on a vast estate that far surpassed even the beauty of the Laples Estate, there was a pond, two gardens (one for flowers, one for vegetables), an archery range, and a stable. And that, I suspected, were only the things I could see from the way I had entered. Inside the three story home, complete with two winding stair cases, it contained statues, artwork, various instruments from around the world, maps, artifacts, furs, animal heads mounted on walls, awards, a ballroom the size of a home, lush bedrooms, quaint parlors, and a grand library. Molokov startled my daydreaming by leading me into the dining room. I blinked. It was easily big enough to be a ballroom in itself. He pulled out my chair into which I promptly sat in.

All around my silver platter set with fine utensils were more silver platters, but they were covered by round silver lids. He uncovered the plates and stood a little out of the way, one arm behind his back and the other up to his chest, waiting stoically. It felt out of place eating food at a big table that held no one else. I had gotten so used to eating among large groups of people that it felt wrong to do so. I wondered to myself why there weren't anybody else besides Molokov? _Surely in a mansion owned by wealthy Salirian noblemen they'd have more help. _

The door opened abruptly.

"Baby, are you in here? Oh!"

A naked woman clad only a bed sheet wrapped tightly her body stared at me from the doorway. She had vibrant brown hair and wide-set eyes, a delicate nose, pouty lips. The kind of face that was of the classic beauty variety.

"Who are you," she asked with an edge to her voice.

Sipping my tea, I lowered the cup and faced her fully.

"I am Gretty, Lord Preston's new arcus Master."

"Arcus Master," the mysterious woman barked, "Preston is a Master himself. He doesn't need further instruction. There is no reason he'd hire you. So, tell me your real name and reason for being here this instant."

"I can only give you the same information I just gave you, madam. I have the letter requesting my services written by Lord Preston if you wish proof."

She walked over to me. Hesitantly reading it, her face relaxed. She returned it to me.

"Forgive my tone, Gretty. For a moment I thought you were a woman with designs upon Preston. I'm happy to find that I was wrong."

She forced a smile made to look like an apology. Preston entered behind us. For a moment, he seemed displeased seeing the woman.

"Mukolka, what are you doing in here? Aren't you supposed to be resting?" He said in a quiet air.

The woman blushed, biting her lower lip as she ducked her head and curled strands of hair behind her right ear.

"Sorry, baby, I just couldn't resist…I wanted to see you. And I heard you playing that beautiful song; the last one…"

Preston straightened, slipping a glance at me from the corner of his eye. He gave a charming smile.

"That, actually, was the doing of that young talented lady over there."

"Her?"

She turned towards me, surprised. I was too busy being attentive to the meal set out for me to respond. Preston swept forward.

"Mukolka, you must be freezing in that makeshift gown of yours. You should go back to the bedroom and get changed. After all, you must leave soon or else your brother and sister-in-law will break down my doors with the authorities at their heels, accusing me of kidnapping you."

The girl blinked. Gazing down at herself, it was as if she suddenly remembered her modest attire. She gripped the sheets closer, blushing furiously. Without another word the mystery woman left. Her absence created a still silence between Preston and I. He casually strode towards me as I ate.

"Quite the feisty one, that girl is," he leaned on the side of the table, head tilted with a satisfied smile.

I said nothing. After all, I hadn't known of the woman's existence until she came bursting into the room only a moment ago.

"Her brother is a wealthy man who thrives off the buying and selling of homes in this area. Even though he possesses business savvy, he doesn't possess common sense. He dotes on his little sister and treats her like some pure, innocent thing that can't be tainted. He tries to shut her off from the world. Oh how naïve and foolish…"

I lightly dabbed my mouth with my napkin. Settling into my chair, I looked up at him.

"It seems I have finished my morning meal much faster than I had anticipated. Would you like to keep to our previous agreement, or would you rather us begin our session now?"

He stared at me. Preston tapped his fingers on the table for a minute then straightened himself. A wide smile graced his face.

"I wouldn't mind getting a jump on it now, but I must see to it that the miss gets home safely first. It is a gentleman's duty when servicing a lady guest to make sure all her needs are met in the most sufficient way possible to produce the most pleasurable experience possible."

I inclined my head, "I agree. If you'll accuse me, I shall go get some of the music I brought for our lesson."

Standing up, I curtsied, "Thank you for the wonderful meal, Preston."

He didn't say anything else. He just watched me follow Molokov who took it upon himself to show me to my room. I was unsure why the manservant darted solemn glances over his shoulder at me in the meantime. They were appraising in nature which made me uncomfortable. Once we arrived, Molokov bowed.

"Is there anything else you require, my lady?"

"No, that is all, Molokov, thank you."

The man departed. Setting my shoulders, I entered my bedroom. My eyebrows rose in awe at the sight before me. It was a wide, open room with a satin couch, a fireplace, antique dressers, an armoire, imported rugs, decorative Salirian statues, and a red canopy bed. It was fit for a member of the Royal Family. Near the opening of the space were my things. I sifted through my papers, selecting the ones I wanted and then put all my possessions away. Right as I was about to open the curtains to allow in some more light, a knock sounded at the door. I opened it to find the woman from before, but now fully clothed, long tresses tied back fashionably.

"Yes?"

She smiled nervously, "Hi. Uh, Gretty, right? I'm sorry to disturb you but I wanted to have a word with you before I left. Would it be alright if I came in?"

"Yes, of course."

I allowed her in and shut the door behind her. We took a seat on the satin couch, turned towards each other. The girl tucked her hair behind her ear, pink rising to her cheeks.

"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier. My name is Emilly, Emilly Rokure. You must think awful things of me after how I acted…"

Confused, I said, "I didn't think any of your conduct was deserving of lasting judgment."

At this, the woman stared long and hard as if gauging my sincerity. She smiled.

"I like you, Gretty. I can tell you aren't like other girls who can be so catty and immature. You are to the point, honest, and self-assured."

She reached across and took my hands. "That's why I know you are the right person to come to, to trust with this…I have a…favor to ask of you. I knew this all must seem so strange and sudden, especially coming from someone you've just met, but it would mean the world to me."

Blinking, I assured, "I'm willing to help you in any way I can as long it's reasonably within my power to grant."

"Of course, of course…It's silly really…Can you…Can you make sure no other woman makes a move on Preston while I'm gone? I mean, try to hold his very special attention, if you catch my drift."

Her eyes became very direct, eyebrows perked, conveying what that 'special attention' meant. She swallowed and began again.

"I—I'm not the feather brained idiot I might seem. I know he's a bachelor that takes his way with any woman he wants, but…But, oh, will you promise not to tell another living soul if I tell you a secret? I love him, Gretty. I am in love."

The exclamation came with a giddy giggle and bright eyes. She shook her chestnut locks fast.

"I…I know what it must sound like. Foolish. Extremely irrational; I mean, we've only beentogether one night. You should have heard the things he said to me, Gretty. And that beautiful, sad song he kept playing…The Lament of Algor? Aldud? Something along those lines. His expression was so soulful. Everyone told me before we met that he was this beast in disguise that devoured ladies hearts wherever he went, with no conscious. I almost believed it too. He acted like so many men I've seen before, just craftier in his charm. But when I heard that song and saw his face as he played, I found the truth. He's a man like any other, with a heart like any other. If he has a heart, then he has the capacity to love, right?"

Emilly momentarily gazed out into the distance, gripping my wrists. Eventually she found her way back to reality. Straightening, she looked at me earnestly.

"Gretty, will you please do it for me? You'll have my everlasting gratitude and your efforts won't go unrewarded."

For some reason, it took me a few minutes to respond. Clearing my throat, I said, "I will do the best I can. However, as I said before, Emilly, I will do what is reasonable."

Lips creased into an ecstatic grin, she squealed and lunged forward, grappling me into a hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are a wonderful girl, Gretty. The best."

With that, she fled out of the room. _She really must care for Preston a lot, then, to leave such a task to a total stranger, _I thought. I immediately then set to opening the curtains and writing letters to both my family and Molly. I didn't think it appropriate for to me see Emilly off, since she was Preston's special guest and I was merely hired help. As I scribbled, I heard the vague tones of laughter and the exchange of words between Emilly and Preston. The main entrance opened and shut and there was a bone-deep silence throughout. Getting up, I fisted the music sheets and walked out of the room. After all, the agreement was to resume our lesson when the woman left. I approached the balcony that overlooked the first floor entryway. The young lord was talking Salirian to a maid I hadn't seen before. It seemed to be more venting at her direction than actual conversation.

"I've never met a more boring, plain, annoying, petty girl in all my life. By the gods, one more minute hearing that gods' forsaken voice of hers and I would have drown myself out in the ponds."

The young Salirian maid giggled behind her fingers, head bowed.

"Any letters that come in from her I want immediately burned, do you understand me? Don't even tell me when I get them. Just burn them. But I want any from her brother immediately. Rokure is a valuable asset. I mustn't lose him."

Without raising her eyes, she curtsied and slinked out of the room like a shadow. Preston pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

"Molokov," he growled loudly.

The manservant came to his side seemingly from nowhere. Molokov bowed deeply. His lord began to order at him in Salirian to change his sheets and clean his bedroom and to remove any evidence of Emilly's stay from the household completely. Suddenly, Lord Preston paused.

"Did…Gretty say anything to you when you took her to her room," inquired he in Salirian.

"No, my lord," the older man responded.

"That girl, she disappeared just now for a while…Where did she go to? She wouldn't tell me; said something about it being a secret."

"One of the maids informed me, sir, the lady guest visited Master Gretty's bedroom."

A change came over the young lord. His whole demeanor became what it was the night we had met. My stomach twisted at the sight but I pressed myself to descend the staircase. Both the manservant and the lord watched me. Preston's face transformed. With a flourishing bow, he exclaimed, "Oh, my good Master has returned! Shall I escort you to our lesson?"

He held out his arm, winking, at the bottom of the steps. It went against all proper procedures to turn him down, so I took it and walked with him. Grinning, he leaned in conspiratorially.

"I have just been told my lady friend visited you before she left just now. What were you ladies chatting about?"

An inward battle occurred as I wrestled with trying to keep Emilly's request a secret and not telling a lie.

"Well, she apologized first for her behavior this morning, then we talked about you. Or shall I say, she talked about you."

He stiffened but kept a light tone. "Ah, how dangerous for us men when women gather! I hope they were nice things."

"Yes, they were," I said truthfully. "She regards you most highly, Preston. That is something you are already aware of, of course."

The young lord didn't regard me until we reached the study.

"So." Preston sat down in the chair I had found him in when I had first arrived. "My Master, how would you like to begin? Oh and just as a warning, if the lesson isn't interesting I might become a most unruly student. In which case, you'd have to take disciplinary measures against me, right? And I think we'd both just _hate_ for that to happen."

He tilted his chin up at me. His eyes glinted wickedly and I detected the teasing curl in his lips. I sighed deeply. I handed over the music sheets of a short melody to him.

"I have taught unruly students before, Lord Preston."

"Ah." His eye twinkled. "But Master Gretty, you forget. Those were children with their little toys. I am a man who requires so much more sensitivity and guidance. A personal touch, if I may. I will be quite the handful for you."

"Have no fear. I'll be able to handle you just fine. Now, please begin on the piece in your hands."

Real light blossomed in Preston's eyes and he chuckled.

"Cracking that whip right at the start, Master Gretty. Perhaps you will be the perfect woman to keep me in line."

I stared at him hard, waiting patiently. He lifted the arcus with a smile and a wink and started to play.

Music. I blearily sat up in bed. I growled from the back of my throat, rubbing my eyes in the pitch darkness. It was in the middle of the night, for gods' sake, and someone was playing music. I gritted my teeth. _Those damn servants. I'll have Molokov beat the lot of 'em. _This wasn't the first time that they assumed I was too drunk and dead to the world to hear them play a diddly or two, amusing themselves with my wine. I had thought that the punishment they had suffered was enough to deter them from doing it again. _Apparently not_, I clenched my jaw. I shrugged on a loose undershirt and wore a pair of old trousers. Sloughing down the hall, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I stopped when I realized a single voice shyly rang through.

_Gretty. _

The organ in my chest performed an uncharacteristic off beat. Pulled by the sound, I came to her door. The words were indiscernible yet the allure was undeniable. I slowly reached for the door knob and opened it. I was no longer in my household but at Laples Estate. Gretty stood in the middle of the ballroom next to a handsome, blonde, fair skinned gentleman wearing an honest smile. It was Ken, the same man that had defended his brother's actions in striking me. The same one that had in a roundabout way called me pathetic and a disgusting human being. She was singing while smiling in that way she had. Ken joined in with a toe-tapping tune on the arcus, grinning. As the song came to a close, Ken drew Gretty's body near.

My eyes snapped awake and I lurched upwards, gripping the covers. _A dream. _I ran my fingers through my hair. _It was simply a stupid dream. _Yet, a recreation of the scene replayed over and over in my mind's eye. An angry burn spread throughout my body. I threw back the sheets and poured a drink. Draining the cup dry, I stared off into the distance. One month and the symptoms caused by the initial meeting of the Sorceress only increased as time went on. Some of them I begrudgingly understood. Others struck at my core like lightning, so fast and so electrifying, so utterly terrifying. She had the capacity to make me feel like the smallest, unsightly being ever conceived and a bird flying to new magnificent heights.

Of course, she played innocent at every turn. When I made clever, perverted jokes, she batted her eyelashes at me and spoke in a direct manner, as if I was actually being serious. If I complimented her, she had the same response every damn time. A turn, small smile, and a bow. "Thank you, Preston. You are too kind." Formal and without sarcasm. As I played my arcus, I tried to wow her as I did that first morning of her arrival only to have her to pause with that brow of hers and hear her critique my performance. Never had I become so frustrated or consumed with the want of receiving the attention of a woman. Just the thoughts of her with another man, like the one in my dream, was enough to drive my hand at a couple of drinks. But then again, I often found small excuses for the dirty habit of mine.

As I dressed, a knock sounded at the door. I said, "Enter," in Salirian. Molokov with his usual demeanor bowed after entering.

"My lord, I have received word from Lord and Lady Demarque that they have taken a sudden detour from seeing an old friend and are on their way here now, to see you."

Breath halted in my lungs, I found my awareness again and buttoned my shirt.

"Dear Mother and Father checking on their failure of a son to make sure he isn't doing any further damage to the family name. How damn touching."

I paused. I didn't look over.

"Molokov, you know what to do," I said gravely.

"Yes, my lord."

"No not disappoint me."

The man bowed and left without a sound. Inhaling deeply, I finished my routine then went downstairs into the dining room. There sat Gretty with her usual countenance of perfect elegance. She even drank without a single slurp. Funny, her presence always seemed inviting; if there was such a thing. I took the seat directly across from her.

"Good morning, my dear Master. I trust you slept well last night?"

She lowered her cup of tea from her lips.

"Yes, indeed, I did. Although I do admit I had a strange dream."

"Of what, my lady?"

It shocked me when I saw a light blush taint her cheekbones. She ducked her head, fork pushing a grape across the plate. A thought raced around in my head. _Had the dream been about _me_? _I wanted to leap up and do a primal dance of glee around the room. _I can't let this moment slip away. I have to handle this carefully._

"Molokov, can you please go check on the kitchen for me and see what's keeping them?"

"Yes, my lord," he responded in slow Lawencian, bowing, and then left.

I looked back at the girl. She wasn't looking up at me.

"So, what was so strange about that dream?"

The blush grew darker in shade and she nervously glanced to the side of the table.

"Come on, I won't judge you."

Her eyes darted up, wide and innocent-like, then at her hands.

"Well, my lord—"

"Preston," I corrected softly.

"Preston," she asserted, smiling timidly. "I just had a dream…about you and Miss Emilly."

_That wasn't what I expected. _"Oh?" I said guardedly.

"Yes. I know…It's strange. Very inappropriate to have such thoughts; especially when it's about your employer and his personal life. Please forgive me for bringing it up."

"No," the word quietly snuck out of my mouth. "Continue. I want to hear."

"I don't quite remember all of it, but I was standing in my bedroom with Emilly. She was wearing a beautiful wedding gown. She talked about you, about how exciting and lucky she was to marry a man of such an extinguished nature. Then, there were bells outside of the room and she ran out and descended that same staircase out there. You waited at the bottom steps for her in groom's wear. It was as if no one saw me or could hear me. What made it stranger was that there was no one around to attend the wedding. Not even Molokov…

"You looked happy, though. You mentioned how perfect she was, especially her face."

The sentence tapered off into a hushed mumble. I stared at her, thoroughly surprised. She must have mistaken my stare as a silent order to stop speaking. _Emilly, _perfect_? What delusional nonsense is this?! Why would I marry an unbearable girl like her?_

Molokov entered followed by a chain of servants. They placed the food on the table before us and slipped away in silence. Molokov returned to his perch at the side of the room.

"Forgive me, but may I ask a question?"

Grinning over at my young Master, I said, "Yes, but it'll cost you."

"Cost me?" She blinked. "How much?"

"A question for a question."

A smile unfurled on her cheeks. "Alright," her head bobbed. She glanced behind herself curiously.

"From what Molokov tells me, you have over fifty men and women living on the estate, working for you. Yet, during the day, I do not see a single one with the exception of meal times and note deliveries. Why is that?"

I laughed. Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my leg over the other. "I'm a man that enjoys his space, Master Gretty. It is best for both parties to stay out of each other's way."

"Doesn't it get lonely or too quiet for you?"

A faded smile came to my face as I answered, "If it is too quiet around here, I hardly notice it. Despite what you've seen this past month, I'm a rather busy man. I represent my father's holdings here in Lawence and see to it that all his business partners are content. Sounds simple enough in description but it is a nasty affair. Business men are no better than Angorian razor fish. When the opportunity presents, they seek out and feed upon the weak. Especially if it's one of their own. Miss Gretty, that was two questions. My turn."

Rubbing my chin, I stopped. "What do you think of me?"

I hated how my heart pounded, waiting for her response. She didn't speak for the span of several breaths.

"Well, sir, you are an incredibly intelligent and talented musician. You are charismatic, precise, a gentleman, a fine student. I couldn't have asked for a better employer."

Of course that's how she would take it. How I was as her _employer_, not as a…as anything else.

"No, my dear Master. What do you think of me personally?"

"Oh," she then puzzled. "Do you mean my analytic view of your personality?"

"Yes. That." _Close enough._

She straightened. "From what I've observed, sir, you are egocentric. You are arrogant, rash, inconsiderate of others' views and feelings, unreasonably stubborn, conceited, and audacious. You possess one of the brightest minds I've ever had the pleasure of encountering. You're fashionable and personable. You're expertly skilled at reading those around you, which is the main reason why you are so good at handling your father's associates. You assume the role in whatever situation you encounter in order to achieve the decided goal, whether it's personal or otherwise. Despite the irrational antics you display, I perceive a deep discipline to one's culture, family name, and status. You are also changeable."

"Changeable?" I leaned forward, my mask of gentlemanly calm fallen.

"Yes," Gretty replied seriously, "changeable. One moment you are happy, the next belligerent, and sullen thereafter. One doesn't know what to expect when around you, Lord Preston Demarque."

Jaw clenched, we sat in silence. I reined in my wild emotions.

"Forgive me, Master. I've kept you from enjoying your meal. Please, excuse me. I need to ready the household for some expected guests."

"Guests?"  
Her brow creased. I smiled without warmth down at her as I stood.

"My parents."

She wiped her mouth. Puzzled, I watched her stand and curtsy.

"Then I shall go to my room and review for today's lesson."

Before she could move to the door, I put my hand on her arm. Surprised, she looked up.

"Gretty, it would…I'd like…I would appreciate it if you met them."

I cursed at my idiotic stumbling. Meanwhile, she withdrew.

"As you wish, Preston," she bobbed and disappeared.

My hand remained paused in the air. The fingers curled tightly into a fist. _How does such a slight woman make me stumble all over myself? _

It wasn't long until my mother and father's carriage could be heard charging up the road. Molokov and another manservant swept open the two front doors, servants assembled into two lines before it, heads bowed. All of this happened in mere minutes. I waited at the entrance, cane in hand. Something soft brushed my left arm. There, wearing what seemed to be her finest, was Gretty.

"Sorceress," I murmured underneath my breath.

The carriage rumbled to a stop in the courtyard. A footman opened the door and assisted my mother first. The Jewel of Saliria, of course, never failed to live up to her title. Pearls adorned her luxurious black hair from crown to tip, matching the opals on her chest and fingers. Her dramatic brown eyes found mine. Sweeping back her long, red, fur lined robes, she exclaimed, "Moi syn!"

Gliding up the steps and past the servants, she quickly clasped me.

"Hello, Mother," I choked out in Salirian as she continue to ramble on about how worried she was and how happy she was to see me. Suddenly stepping back, she gasped, touching my cheeks.

"By the gods, you have color back in your cheeks! And you put some meat on your bones! Surely this must be one of your tricks, my son! You are never this healthy. Please, tell me it is a trick!"

"Trish, leave the boy alone," a burly man grumbled behind her.

Large square hands and broad shoulders, my father stood only slightly beneath me. He carried a gruff attitude, spoke bluntly, and was a hard working sort that held iron clad morals. Mother let go. Father looked about himself.

"Place looks like shit."

The hand on the cane tightened.

"Who is this?"

Startled, I followed Father's line of sight. Gretty had remained perfectly silent throughout the exchange. Stepping forward, she curtsied and said, "My name is Gretty, sir."

Father's lips dipped disapprovingly. "You another one of his hookers?"

The blood drained away from my face. First in disbelief, then in rage. However, Gretty didn't bat an eye.

"No, sir. I am his Master."

Crossing his arms, he growled, "Oh, really? What do you teach?"

"Lawencian classic arcus pieces, my lord."

He stood there a while longer, assessing her. "What song are you both covering right now?"

"Yowl's 'Revenge of the Goddess'."

"Hmm," he snorted. "Son, why don't you play it for me and your mother? We deserve some entertainment after that ride."

"Of course, Father. I'm afraid I left my sheets and instrument in my study. I'll be right back."

When I came back down the stairs and entered the parlor, my mother was laughing, excitedly speaking in Salirian to Gretty. The poor girl sat on the same couch with her, back straight, face passive, hands clasped together.

"Mother, she doesn't speak Salirian."

"Oh no, son. She does!" She beamed, beyond thrilled.

I abruptly stopped walking and stared at the young girl. "Is this true?" I hesitantly asked in my native tongue.

She brought up her hand and teetered it side to side. "I can but very poorly. I am afraid I don't possess the right accent."

"What are you talking about? You are great! Isn't she, Zander?"

"You are right, you do need some work on your annunciations, but you would not shame yourself among Salirian company."

"Thank you, sir." Gretty sounded genuinely pleased and dipped her head.

"Now, son, for that song. Your mother and I don't have long."

"Yes, Father."

Placing the sheets on a stand kept at the edge of the room for these occasions, I breathed deeply through my nostrils. I set the arcus underneath my chin. My eyes caught Gretty's. Her smile was faint but it was there. _"Do you know the story behind 'Revenge of the Goddess', sir?"_

Lifting the bow, I hardly glanced at the papers. I played the vivid story of a goddess and her pain. Once I was done, sweat gathered at my brow and on my palms. I lowered the arcus and the bow, finally looking at my surroundings. Father seemed contemplative, Mother hushed with the tips of her fingers on her lips, and Gretty unreadable as always.

"Again, you are right, young lady. You are a Master. My son never sounded so polished in a performance. Well done."

My mother flew across the room and kissed both my cheeks. "That was marvelous, son! Beautiful!"

"Trish, it's time we headed out. They're expecting us at noon. Son, walk us out."

"Yes, Father."

He turned to Gretty and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw a smile on his lips.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Gretty."

The girl curtsied, smiling in measure, "The pleasure was all mine, my lord."

My mother kissed both her cheeks and held her hands, saying farewell in Salirian. My parents and I made our way out through the entrance of the house. Stopping in front of the carriage, my mother said beamingly, "That girl is so polite, son! She is very intelligent and modest. Kind, too. It's a shame you haven't married a girl like her yet."

"Mother," I groaned, sensing the impending, well scripted lecture.

"All I'm saying, son, is that it's time for you to settle down. To raise a family. Your father and I aren't going to be around forever and we worry about your future."

Faking a smile, "Mother, you and Father needn't worry about me. I'm a man in his prime. I have plenty of time before the need for a wife becomes dire."

"That's precisely why we are worried," interrupted my father. "Who knows what hooker or supposed 'high class' floozy you'll choose when we are down in our graves."

"Gretty may not be the prettiest girl out there or the richest, Preston, but she certainly isn't the worst. I've heard much praise abroad about her mature disposition. She's well known for her talents, and respected by various people of our society. If you claimed her, you'd come home to a faithful wife who understands your station and our culture—"

"I'm not going—"

"Oh, yes you are." My father coldly glared at me. "You're reckless behavior has gone long enough. You're mother and I have decided that unless you marry a respectable girl in five months time, we will strip you of all the privileges of our family name."

"And what will I do with myself then, Father? Live on the road? Beg for crusts of bread to keep me alive while you sleep in your bed, knowing your only son is starving and living a life of poverty?"

There was black ice in his stare as he retaliated, "I would sleep just fine. It's better than enduring a life of shame of having such a son as you. A boy that never became a man."

My hands shook with fury. He leaned forward, oh-so slightly. "I suggest you rethink your time spent in brothels and parties and put that energy into finding a suitable wife."

Mother darted a sorrowful look my way before following him into the carriage. I stood for what seemed like ages out there. My feet planted in the dirt, staring off into nothing, teeth clenched. I wanted nothing more than to scream. To scream till I couldn't scream anymore.

The tall, wooden clock chimed twelve times in my ear. I crossed my arms over my chest, sighing. _Preston has been out there since they left an hour ago. _I lifted my chin, walked across the room, and opened one of the doors. His black, thick locks swayed in the gentle breeze, his back turned towards me. Seeing him standing still against a gray sky made me pause. Perhaps it was the posture made of intense meditation, or the way he gripped his black and silver handled cane in a shaking palm, or how hard his angular jaw locked together, but I suddenly felt concerned for the man. Deeply so.

"Don't give that kind of expression, my dear Master. I'll be in soon. I'm just admiring the weather. Strange to see so many overcast clouds in the middle of Harvest Season. I don't mind the cold it brings, though. I've always enjoyed the cold more than the warm as a child. I'd often steal out of the house, ducking servants and my nanny to go ride my horse across the moors during days like this. Of course, my father would find me and punish me, swearing to the sky that never had there been a more unruly child in the world compared to his son."

Even though his words were soft, there was sadnesss to them. A silence stretched on.

"Master Gretty, I'm going out for the night. Molokov and the others will take care of you."

He abruptly turned and walked back inside before I got a chance to look at his face. I placed my hand over my heart. I realized, somewhat startled, that it accompanied a feeling of pity for the man. Maybe it was because of how lonely he seemed. How for a man that possessed everything, he didn't possess happiness. I walked back inside in deep contemplation. My feet led to my bedroom where I sat down and began to write to Molly.

"Dear Molly,

I hope you, the baby, and Brichard are doing well. I very much enjoyed your letter describing Brichard's frustrations in constructing the wooden cradle. In regards to the question at the end of it, whether anything interesting has happened, I do have something to tell. I met the Lord and Lady Demarque this morning. They decided to take a detour on the way to a friend's gathering to come here to the estate. Their carriage was very stately and the team of horses of the finest breeding. The first to step out was Lady Trish Demarque, the Jewel of Salira, accomplished Vibrayta singer. She immediately went to Lord Preston, speaking Salirian. After she hugged her son, Lord Zander Demarque came up behind her. He asked me if I was Lord Preston's hooker once he saw me. I told him politely my job. I think he didn't believe me because he asked me what we were studying together. Once I told him, he ordered his son to perform for us in the parlor and then left after it was done. Molly, he was remarkable. I feel really deep inside that he is beginning to understand what music is now.

But I worry about him. He was strange after he walked his parents out. Preston stood outside for a whole hour, staring off into nowhere. When I went to go check on him, he spoke a little about his childhood, how he rode out on the moors back in Saliria. He sounded detached. Almost lonely. He abruptly then told me he was going out for the night and Molokov would take care of me. I wonder if there is anything I can do for him. Perhaps you can give me a piece of advice of how to handle the situation.

Your Ever Loyal Friend,

Gretty"

I folded the paper nice and neat. I stopped. There was scurrying beyond the door. Curious, I opened it wide.

"Ah!" Someone cried out, leaning back just in time before the door could clip their face. The body next to it snapped up rigidly.

"Master Gretty!"

Two servant girls, no older than the tender age of fifteen, bowed. The girl with wispy brown hair tied in two long braids spoke first.

"We're so sorry, my lady. We promise we won't do it again."

The other, who had a lighter, cherry shade of brown tumbling down her back in an intricate form of many braids weaved into one, exclaimed, "Please don't tell our master! We'll be good from now on, we swear."

"Don't tell him what?"

The first girl timidly raised her head. "We were peaking on you, my lady, through the keyhole."

"We wanted to see what your room looked like," piped up the second.

"And what you were doing."

"Master made strict rules that no one can go in besides Kelder and Molokov."

"So, we became curious."

"We're sorry!"

"Very, very sorry!"

I blinked. I stepped aside. Lifting my arm, I said, "You may enter whenever you wish. I don't mind."

They gaped. Glancing at each other, the first stammered, "Really?"

"Of course. There is nothing for me to hide."

Both grinned big, thrilled. Why? I had not the slightest idea. I invited both girls to sit down inside my bedroom. With much hesitation, they complied.

"What are your names?" I asked.

The cherry haired servant beamed. "Oh, I'm Lyra and this is Elly."

"Is that your arcus? It's really nice."

"Oh, oh! Can you play it for us?"

Lyra gleefully clapped while Elly's eye brightened at me. Smiling, I got up and grabbed the arcus.

"What would you like me to play?"

"How about 'Song of the Valley'?"

"'Song of the Valley,' 'Song of the Valley'…"

I searched through my papers, brow creased, "I don't believe I know that song."

"Then play anything you like!" Lyra giggled. "We don't mind. Just as long as it's cheerful. We're bored of hearing all that depressing stuff you teach Lord Preston."

Instantly, her eyes became dinner platters and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Elly elbowed her in the side, horrified. Hard.

"I'm…I'm so, so sorry, Master Gretty. I think all that you teach Lord Preston is beautiful…"

I laughed. "It's alright, Lyra. I don't blame you for feeling so. I do tend to gravitate towards the more serious 'stuff,' as you called them."

Her olive skin became rosy about the cheekbones. I smiled.

"How about I play a song we sing in my village. It's kind of silly. It's called 'The Farmer and his Goat-wife.'"

Soon after, the girls were laughing so hard, tears streamed down. Elly's laughter became especially violent to the point of silence as she slid off the chair onto the floor. Lyra plopped next to her, holding her friend.

"Tha-the-that song, Ma-Master Gretty," gasped out Elly through heavy breathing.

"The boys need to hear it. Everyone needs to hear it! It's hilarious!"

"Yes!" Elly suddenly recovered, shooting up. "Please, Master Gretty, play for everybody! We can go do it in the ballroom. Master's not here. He won't mind, right, Lyra?"

"Elly, you're a genius. We'll have a dance! It's been so long since we've had one. Please, Master Gretty, will you?" Lyra pleaded.

"Well…" I paused. Something in the pit of my stomach tugged unpleasantly. Unsure, I asked, "I don't know if we should, seeing as Preston isn't here…"

"Oh, he won't mind."

Elly rapidly nodded. "Master has let us use the ballroom tons of times before."

The uneasy tugging didn't go away but I complied anyways. Like two fluttering birds, they arranged everything for an evening full of food, music, dance, and laughter. As all the servants gathered in the ballroom, I readied myself by rearranging my hair in a tighter bun in my bedroom. A loud knock disturbed the activity.

"Come in."

To my surprise, it was Molokov with a golden dress draped over his arm. Bowing, he spoke in crisp Salirian, "Although, I don't approve of what is happening in Master Preston's ballroom, I find it a higher crime that a woman would perform in clothes unbefitting of her station."

He carefully placed the dress on the chair near the door then left without another word. I hesitantly picked it up. _By the stars above, it's so soft…and thin. _It was of the most current fashion with long sleeves…The kind of dress that the neckline fell open until the shoulders, dipping into a V in the front, gently cupping the chest, before falling to the floor in a sheet of gold. Without really thinking where Molokov had gotten the beautiful gown, I put it on. I walked to my mirror.

"Well, then…" I cleared my throat, uncomfortable. "No," I reasoned at once and began to undress. "It's inappropriate."

"Master Gretty? Are you ready?"

I started. "Oh, yes, yes I am."

I anxiously looked at my hands. They were shaking. _I can't be falling ill right now. I have a performance. I must put myself together. _Grabbing the arcus, I opened the door. Elly's jaw dropped.

"Master Gretty, you're beautiful! It's perfect for you."

My smile trembled and I nodded to hide it. The servant girl luckily didn't notice my expression and we walked to the ballroom. The room felt pleasantly crowded as servants drank and danced to the already existing drum and flute players that were set up in the corner. Elly ran off and I soon picked her out among a group of other servants around her age, all laughing, all enjoying themselves. I easily fell in step with the other players on the arcus and throughout the night went on to play both Lawencian and Salirian pieces, and some based on nothing but the moment itself.

Lyra staggered her way to me. "Gretty! Gretty play…play that fun funny song."

It was more than obvious that the girl was drunk, hardly able to walk. Rosy cheeked and glassy eyed, she stumbled into a man that looked to be one of the cooks from the kitchen.

"Suh-sorry, mister. Sorry," she slurred in Lawencian.

Setting down my arcus, I put my arm around her. She blinked and stared at the ground. Suddenly, she grinned as big as any fool at me.

"Hey. Hey. Can I tell you a sec-secret?"

"Of course."

"I think…I think the Master's teacher is…I think she's wonderful."

I looked into the crowd, searching for Elly, or anyone that could help my newfound inebriated friend. A boy with the tell-tale Salirian deep tan skin approached.

"Oye, Lyra. I told her not to have two glasses. Especially since she's such a tiny little thing. I'm so sorry, Master Gretty. Don't worry. I'll take care of her."

As Lyra continued to mumble her secrets to the floor beneath her, her friend escorted her out of the ballroom. I was about to pick up my arcus and join the others when someone let out a muffled scream. Everything stopped. Slowly, people edged towards the sides of the room. It became clear what had caused them to become that way. Lord Preston Demarque was walking in a drunken swagger, making his way directly to me. My stomach seized. I had never seen him so disheveled, his eyes so bloodshot. The players beside me instantly put down their instruments and bowed their heads in shame.

"Get. Out." He spoke Salirian in a coarse whisper. "Everyone. Except, her."

The command had the entire ballroom emptied in seconds.

"Why?"

"Why, what?" I responded, trying to hide the tremors in my hands.

"What are you talking about? You know what I'm asking."

Preston took a step towards me. His eyes were black, endless pits. I took a step back.

"No, I don't."

He cracked a delirious smirk. "Oh, you can't play games with me, Sorceress. You know exactly what I mean."

"Sorceress?" I let out a shuddering breath as my back hit the cold wall behind me.

_He wouldn't hurt me, _a voice said deep inside. I didn't know why, but for some reason, I was sure beyond all reason that this was true. I stared back into the pits. His hand rose. The knots in my belly exploded and I froze as it caressed my cheek. Those eyes glinted dangerously now.

"I could anything to you if I wanted to, Sorceress, and you wouldn't be able to do a thing."

Swallowing thickly, I said firmly, "Preston, you're drunk. Please, allow me to call upon Molokov so we can—"

Strong hands pressed me back against the wall. Before I could comprehend what was happening, I felt lips work against my neck. They nibbled and playfully sucked on the tender flesh causing my knees to buckle and my eyes to close.

"Preston," I gasped. My heart was pounding and somewhere, something was telling me stop him, but…

He did stop. "Say my name again, Sorceress," his lips brushed against my ear. One hand slid down along the curves of my body, pressing me against his form. Everything inch of me quivered. My mind raced. I didn't know what to think.

"Say it," he repeated, nibbling on the earlobe next.

Potent waves washed over me. _Emilly_.

"Preston."

My bottom lip trembled as I gazed into his eyes, trying to reinforce the seriousness in my tone once again. I was finding it difficult to speak above a murmur.

"Preston, please, stop."

All movements abruptly ended. He stepped away from me, hand pressed over his eyes. He hoarsely spoke under his breath.

"Leave my household."

"But," I whispered.

"_Leave_!"

I snatched my arcus and ran. Bursting into my bedroom, I grabbed everything as quickly as I could and stuffed it into my bag. The room began to spin. Clutching the wall for support, I shut my eyes to ground myself. _Why? Why did it turn out this way? Why?_ I could still feel the vibrations of his command in my very bones, shaking and rattling.I dashed a hand across my eyes. No. No tears. It was hard enough to breathe when my chest felt like it was being torn down the middle.

"Madam."

I sharply turned. "Oh," I tremulously swallowed, "Molokov…"

"The carriage is ready for our departure whenever you are, my lady."

Bobbing my head, I tucked my things close to my pounding heart and stepped in tow behind him. The house was choked with an unsettling silence. Molokov wrenched the front door open, allowing a blast of cold air to enter. He stood there, holding it out for me as rain slapped his cheek. There wasn't a look of expectancy hurrying me on. It was patient. I hardly felt the cold in the dress. All I felt was great sadness as I looked over my shoulder. As short as my stay had been, I had grown so fond of every little part of it. Two tears trailed on the edges of my face. "Goodbye."

I blinked and set my face forward. I knew well that I could have waited out Preston's drunken outbursts and he would have found sanity in the morning. But I was leaving for a different reason…The shame of it all was that my body craved more of his touch and my heart experienced a hollow sensation knowing I was leaving him. I would accept my banishment as a lady should. I was keeping to my promise, after all.

It just hurt so damn much.

Stepping out into the rain, Molokov ushered me inside the carriage. I sat down and without a glance back allowed the tears to wash to my face in silence.

I was having that dream again. Gretty and I were alone in the music room. She remained faced away from me, playing a melody on her arcus as she always did in example. Just like the good times. I stood up abruptly in the middle of her performance. Charging across the room, I grabbed her by the arms. I needed to see her eyes one more time. That clarity, their magnificence, before what came next. She arrested her arms away from me. Hurt and confused and scared, she picked up her skirts and bolted. My world shriveled and darkened like a dying rose among a winter storm, leaving only ash and a cruel, twisted reminder of the life that once existed there. I was all alone again. Trapped. Cold. Isolated. Even though I yearned for her voice, her lips, her smile, her gaze, her grace, her little quirks, her _everything_, I was content with being this way. Because living that sham of a life I had parading around in before I had met her wasn't even worth pretending to be in anymore. She was the only thing worth trying for and I had destroyed that chance. I had to.

Gretty was too pure. Too perfect for me. She was rare and exquisite. I wasn't what she needed. I was the sludge of the earth. I'd taint her. That was clear enough with the way I had treated her in the ballroom. I had nearly lost my mind seeing her in a dress that breathtaking… She needed a man like that Ken. Smart, successful, well-bred, honest, who'd truly take care of her. And like where I had resigned in my chair in my dream, I woke up in my study sitting in that very spot. There was darkness around me but not because it was night outside. Those black curtains never opened to the sunlight after she left. The only light I accepted lay in a fireplace, dimmed down to embers now.

A soft patter then a knock.

"Uhm, baby, it's me…Emilly. May I come in?"

I gritted my teeth. _Why won't anyone leave me to my misery? Why don't they understand that the 'Lord Preston Demarque de Torenchsi' they once knew is gone?_

I bent over, ignoring the severe cramps in my joints to grasp the only unopened bottle amongst the others glasses and spirits. Emilly suppressed her gagging coughs to the ripe aroma in the air to traipse her way to me. She stopped at my elbow. In the slim light, I made out the outline of a plate of food. Seasoned steak and potatoes. I popped off the cork to the wine bottle.

"Preston," her voice shook, no doubt those actress-grade tears swelling up at the rims of her eyes, "please put down the bottle and atleast have some food. You haven't eaten in days. Your body can't survive off the random crusts of bread you allow yourself every other day and this much alcohol. You'll kill yourself."

"Do you really think I care?" I viciously retorted, snorting as I took a long swig.

"You may not but I do! You have friends and family that care about if you live or die. I'm sick of hearing you say things like that."

I stared into the fire, frowning. When I didn't say anything, she threw down the plate on a nearby table.

"What _is_ it, Preston? What happened four months ago that made you act this way?"

The hand holding the bottle began to shake.

"Emilly, get out before I lose all sense of courtesy and throw you off my balcony."

I could feel the rage radiate off her. She remained quiet for a moment, which was unlike her. Then,

"Do you know what I think caused all this? Your cowardice."

Rapid heat outpoured into my veins like a warm current. I snapped to my feet to face her. I swayed in place.

"_Excuse me_?"

"Something or someone knocked you off your feet. And like some spoiled child used to having their way, instead of taking the bruises and the cuts as a lesson that you're human like the rest of us and dealing with the situation, you're running till you can't run anymore because you're too scared to face it!"

My body began to really shake now and the room spun faster.

"Get out. NOW."

The tears resurfaced and she quietly slipped away. After the door closed, I sank into my chair. I faintly noticed the wetness on my own cheeks as I shut my eyelids and drained the bottle dry. My world darkened once more.

In the duration of the following week, only brief moments were caught by my intoxicated conscience. When I wasn't drinking, I was shaking and moaning, calling out for more wine, my sight fraught with black and the occasional shadows. When I was, I did so praying it'd bring me to the Gretty of my dreams. I awoke at last on its final day, my blood screaming for its poisonous medicine. I registered that there was someone in the room. Two.

"Lady and Lord Demarque, my lord," Molokov murmured in my ear from the other side of my chair.

"That'd be enough, Molokov," snapped my father. "You're dismissed."

"Yes, my lord."

Hands gingerly took my downturned face. "Oh, my darling…What have you done to yourself?" My mother cried in anguish.

"Get away from him, Trish. That thing isn't our son."

The venom that reverberated off his tongue grated on my eardrums. Mother whimpered but she let me be. He paced in front of me.

"How disgraceful…How utterly humiliating…Look at yourself! You're nothing but a slobbering, disgusting _drunk_! I gave you a chance to redeem yourself. But it has become clear with this display that you neither care nor respect your parents' wishes. So, since you don't possess a wife and it's the fifth month—"

The door opened loudly. "My lord, please pause your thought. I have someone here that might be able to help with our situation."

"Forgive me, Miss Emilly" my father thundered, angry, "but I cannot. This has gone on for far too long. I cannot allow it to happen a second longer."

"Please, my lord," the girl pleaded, her voice humble. "Five more minutes. That is all I ask and he is all yours."

A pause. He huffed. "Fine. Five minutes."

He stomped out followed by Mother. After their exit a pair of hesitant feet entered the room. I stared long in the fireplace. I waited for the voice of yet another quack healer hired by Emilly to 'cure' me. But a voice didn't come.

"Well, don't just stand over there, come to me." I lashed coldly.

The feet moved. And with it came the scent of the moors of Saliria, the wind of the ocean, the flowers of the forest. My heart stopped. _No. It can't be. _I dared not to hope. Sitting rigidly, I growled, "Stop where you are. Come no further. I don't care who you are or what Emilly bribed you with to enter this room. Leave."

My fingers gripped the armrests so hard they shook. The body fluidly knelt by the side of the chair. A slim, beautiful beyond compare, hand rested on my own.

"I'm sorry, Preston, I can't do that."

_Her_ voice. The trembling spread to all parts of my body. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut. "Please," I whispered in pain, "please leave."

The Sorceress shifted. Those blessed hands rested on my cheeks.

"Preston, look at me."

Deprived of will to resist such a command from her lips, I did as I was told. I was struck with the glowing, direct blue gaze of a very real, flesh-and-blood Gretty. The eyes were as they were in the bad part in the dream. Sad and scared. It hurt to see.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" She asked it without judgment.

A shaking hand without my permission gently stroked the side of her cheek. She stiffened.

"Oh, my dear Master, don't look so sad. You worry too much. Save your pity for a better man."

When I was about to let my hand drop, she did something curious. She slowly took my wrist. Taking my hand, she pressed her cheek against my palm. Shutting her eyes, her brow crumpled. When she opened them again, her gaze softened in a way I had never seen before.

"But there is no better man that I know."

She put down my hand but held onto it, tightly, her resolve firming. Suddenly, the door swept open and my father came in.

"Your five minutes is up."

Gretty stood up tall before Father.

"You can't take his title away from him," she said firmly.

"Yes I can. Look at him. He's a mess."

"I can help him get better," she stated confidently and calmly.

"Heh." Father scoffed, pointing at me. "If you want to help him so badly, then marry the fool. Because I'm not letting him keep his birthright unless he is."

The girl didn't let a breath go by before answering. "If he'll take me, I'd happily do so."

Her words rendered Father speechless. I nearly fell out of my chair in shock. I stared at her, blinking, trembling in anticipation. I knew I should be interfering, yelling at her to get out but my heart was swelling to the point it painfully squeezed against my ribcage.

"Do you understand how your life will be with that boy? You may have a title alongside him but you won't be any better off than you are now, maybe even worse for it! You'll have to put up with his debauchery on a daily basis. You won't be able to continue with your career and become a world-wide known arcus player. You'll lose everything."

"I understand it perfectly, sir. But I still wish to be with him."

Father blinked at her. I could no longer stay sitting. I stood. Of course, it was a feat in and of itself. The room swayed and my bones rattled. Gretty clutched onto my side, stabilizing me.

"Gretty," I moaned.

Her eyebrows perked up.

"Don't do this…"

They turned down. "Hush now, I will. I want to."

I shook my head, the ache spreading. "I don't want you throwing your life away on me."

She stared at me like the good old days. When I told naughty jokes and she would stare and then answer straightforwardly.

"Preston, I'm not throwing my life away. I'm giving my life to you because I want you to have it."

Father paled, agape, then inhaled. He didn't seem angry. He was rather contemplative.

"I am a man of my word. If my son will have you as his wife, I will leave you both with my blessing."

Sweat gathered at my palms. I gazed long into Gretty's face. _Is this a dream? _I wanted to ask her.

"Yes," I whispered. With some difficulty, I spoke louder. "Yes."

Gretty actually smiled and held onto me tighter. Father inclined his head. With no other word, he left us alone. I hardly knew what was real and wasn't real at this point. Suddenly, the young Sorceress turned me to face her fully. She placed her hands on either side of my face and kissed me. It was utter bliss. My mind was a great amount of blank nothingingness when we pulled apart. Her hands remained. I blinked, not knowing how to react. Her cheeks colored but she went on factually,

"I thought it customary for a person to show their love through a kiss."

A laugh burrowed its way out of my throat into the air. And I kept laughing. It rocked my body. Gretty watched, ever watchful. I took her into my shaking arms and held her in them.

"Preston…?"

I couldn't stop laughing or crying. I couldn't tell the difference.

"I got my Sorceress back…She's home," I murmured raggedly, gripping her tightly.

For a moment, she didn't say anything.

"Yes, Preston, I'm home."

I stroked her back. "But how…?" I asked the question to mostly myself.

"Emilly wrote to me. She said that you were sick and that nothing was working."

A long pause.

"She also thought that the only one that could make you well again was me."

A slight jolt came over me at that. Startled, I muttered, "What made her think that?"  
"Because she loves you and you love her," was the quiet answer at the doorway.

We both turned towards it. Emilly forced a smile through the heartbreak.

"I heard from those servants, Lyra and Elly, what happened. And once I came here and witnessed at how you unraveled without her, Preston, I knew…This was all my fault. I had been selfish and asked her to keep women who were interested in you away. She ran that night to keep her promise. And I admit, I was selfish still and tried to fix you myself, so that maybe, just maybe, you'd see…But I realized that night when I made that speech about cowardice that you truly did love and miss her. I wrote her not long after, saying that only a woman who has her kind of patience and kindness could bring you back from the brink."

Emilly took Gretty's hand. "I do not hate you and hold you in the highest esteems but I cannot give you my blessing for this union. I hope you understand."

Her broken smile said it all. My future wife solemnly nodded, smiling slightly. "I do."

The girl wiped her eyes then turned to me.

"Treat this young woman well, Preston. She is a beautiful person. Goodbye."

She was gone in a blink of an eye. I held tightly to Gretty. I blinked, looking down at her. With a knitted brow, she wondered, "Is something wrong?"

A wide, mischievous grin spread across my face. I lowered my lips on hers and teasingly worked on them slowly. It produced that same soaring, shaking feeling as before. When I pulled away, she was blushing, eyes wide. I shrugged.

"I needed to be extra sure this was real and not some figment of my imagination…"

She regressed back to being my teacher and scowled. I laughed. By the gods, it felt incredible.

"Come Master Gretty, don't be cross with me."

"You are ridiculous, Preston."

The pink had reached her ears this time. She gnawed the edge of her lip. A little thrill went up inside me, knowing I had caused them. We made our way to the door.

"I can't call you Master Gretty anymore, I suppose. Your correct title is Mistress Gretty, my bride."

"I will be whatever you wish to call me, my lord."

Fingers curled over mine once the door opened. I held them in return as a great wave of light burst over me.

THE END


End file.
